Protege Moi
by Xx starlight-moon xX
Summary: Bellatrix Black is sixteen, and desperately searching for a reason to exist, when Lucius Malfoy unwittingly provides her with one. Contains dark secrets, dark deeds and family drama. R&R?
1. Happy Home

**A/N : Ok. This is my first fic so please review and let me know how I'm doing! There isn't much background information required for this, but I should probably clarify something before people point it out. When I started writing this, I thought the Black sisters went Andromeda, Bella, Cissy in age, so I pretty much based the fic around that angle, meaning it would seriously mess with my plans to change it to Bella, Andy, Cissy, which is, I think, the real order. Sorry if it bothers people, but just try and and think of it as my one little AU-ish indulgence if it helps. Characters are canon, save for extras, who no-one cares about, let's face it. Ages – Bella is sixteen, in her final year at Hogwarts with Lucius. Andromeda is nineteen going on twenty, and married to Ted for about a year and a half now. Narcissa is twelve, and in the same year as Sirius, Snape, and the other Marauders era characters. The pairing _isn't _actually Bella/Lucius, but there are definitely moments that would mislead you in that direction.**

**Happy Home**

"Bella? _Bella!"_

Sixteen year old Bellatrix Black groaned and thrust her head under her pillow.

"Bella, it's ten' o 'clock and breakfast is nearly _over _and Mother says I have to wake you up because you're being _lazy......"_

Bella sighed. Once Cissy got going there was really no way of stopping her. Well, not without sending her mother into a hissy fit anyway. Now she would have to get up.

"Alright, alright. I'm coming."

Cissy, who had been busy prodding her sister, quickly danced out of reach. "Well hurry up," she sang, disappearing downstairs.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Bella pulled on a dressing gown and slippers, scrubbed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair. She really didn't have time for anything else. After all, breakfast was nearly _over. _Rolling her eyes, she trudged downstairs.

She needn't have worried, of course. There was still plenty of food on the table - a combination of Cissy's increasingly fastidious eating habits and those dim-witted house-elves, who insisted on making enough food for five over a year after "Miss Andromeda" had walked out on them all.

Scowling, Bella took her place at the table. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, apparently displeased with her attire, and returned his gaze to the morning's Prophet. The hint, nonetheless, had been taken by her mother. Pursing her lips, Druella turned to her least favourite child.

"Bellatrix," she began, "I would like to remind you that we in The Noble House of Black have standards to maintain. I would also like to remind you that breakfast time is _family time _in this house, and I would expect the whole family to attend, _respectfully _attired of course."

Bellatrix was gratified to see Cissy's eyes flick briefly over Andromeda's empty chair. Good. She wasn't the only one who could see what a farce this family had become then.

"Yes mother ," she said dully, reaching for a slice of toast.

"Good,"her mother said smugly. "Now tell me, what are your plans for the day?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes with difficulty, Bella settled instead for slicing her toast with unwonted venom.

"Well _Mother,"_she said in a voice so saccharine it was faintly sickening, "After breakfast I'm going to wash and dress, and then I'm going to write a Potions essay for Professor Slughorn, _and then _I'm going to let you and Cissy drag me to Diagon Alley to find a dress for this ridiculous extrvaganza at the Malfoys' later tonight. Acceptable?"

Druella was wearing a faintly scandalized expression and even Cygnus had looked up from his newspaper. "Druella," he said dangerously, "I'm growing exceedingly tired of your children's impertinence...."

"Of...of course, Cygnus," Druella said at once, clearly flustered. "I'm so sorry."

"Hmm." Cygnus unfurled The Prophet again and turned to the Editor's Comment, apparently losing interest in the conversation.

_Your children?! _Bella thought furiously. _We're your children too!_

Scowling again, she got to her feet, her own appetite gone in an instant. Well she was just about done here left the room without another word and began to mount the stairs, grateful, for the hundreth time, that the mid-term break was nearing its end, and that in just two days time she would be back at Hogwarts.

It was a strange state of affairs, she thought ruefully, when her approaching NEWTs became a more appealing prospect than time spent with her own family.


	2. Thank You For The Venom

**A/N : Chapter Two, for anyone who's interested. **

**Thank You For The Venom**

Lucius Malfoy cast a critical eye over his reflection. He was seventeen now, a man. He supposed he ought to look a little different, but truth be told, he looked much as he had always looked. The cold grey eyes and chin-length white-blonde hair certainly had not changed, and his face was as pale as ever, the hallmark of someone who spent far too much time indoors. The only changes were in his attire, as he had exchanged his usual sober suits for a set of dark green dress robes. The man in the mirror was flawlessly put together, but then again, he was rarely anything else. Good looks and immaculate taste in clothes were the most innocent inherited traits of the Malfoy family. Lucius frowned. There were some Malfoy characteristics he was hoping to avoid inheriting.

Another thing Lucius had hoped to avoid was this party. But his words to his father had fallen on deaf ears. Apparently, lavish celebrations were the done thing when a boy came of age in the Malfoy household, and Abraxas intended his son to be no exception. And so Lucius had been ordered to organize and throw himself a party. He had not seen his father all day, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He had been alone all day (unless you counted the house-elves as company, and Lucius never had). Strangely enough, he didn't mind. His mother had died in a rather grisly accident when he was just five years old, and Lucius had essentially raised himself since then. Along the way, he had decided that the company he liked best was his own. He didn't have many friends. Most people seemed to think there was something a little strange about him. Lucius suspected they might be right, but he had never managed to put his finger on what that might be exactly. Time spent in the company of others, therefore, was time wasted in his opinion. There were so much more worthwhile things he could be doing. . .

Fastening his cufflinks, Lucius hesitated, staring at his left it was again, that strange, unsettled feeling. He had been given the Dark Mark almost two months ago now, and the skull and serpent design had become almost as much a part of him as the Malfoy family fair hair. And yet. . . sometimes, it surprised him still. Sometimes, the dark blemish on his forearm felt just that – a blemish, unwelcome and unsightly, an alien stain on his character. But that was preposterous. Why should he think that? He was loyal, wasn't he? To his master, to the cause? He knew he was, and he knew he wasn't having doubts. He had honestly never wanted anything else. So _why. . . ._?

Lucius scowled. He didn't like emotions. They were messy, and as far as he could see, they served no purpose, other than to weaken people. Unfortunately, this meant Lucius never devoted much time to analyizing his own, because he preferred to think he didn't have any. Well. . . aside from anger. Lucius could never recall being confused by anger. That, at least, had always been clear to him. Useful, even.

Somewhat mollified, he smoothed down the front of his robes and straightened up.

"Shon!"

Lucius jumped. A moment later, he hated himself. It had been years since he had flinched at the sound of his father's voice, and he couldn't imagine why he had fallen into the old habit tonight.

"Father," he said quickly, hoping to cover up his mistake, "You startled me."

Abraxas waved his words away with obvious impatience. He was dressed for the party, but he was already unsteady on his feet and slurring, his eyes almost as bloodshot as. . . .Lucius shook his head to dismiss the image. "What can I do for you?"

Abraxas moved closer and clapped a hand to his son's shoulder. "Nothing, shon. You're a man now eh? A man. . . ." The thought seemed to trouble him somehow. He settled for shaking his son, as if the boy were a naughty puppy. Lucius didn't know what this was supposed to convey. So he settled for the first words that came to mind.

"Would you care for a drink, father?"

Abraxas stared at him for a long moment. Then -

"Ay. A drink, shon. A drinksh jusht the thing . . ." He tottered towards the decanter which had just appeared on the coffee table, and poured himself a full glass. As Lucius watched, he downed it, smacked his lips, and poured himself another one. Shaking his head in disgust, his son moved to the door.

"Well, father, I really ought to greet the guests."

He was halfway out the door when he heard his father's voice again.

"Lushious?" he hesitated. "You're a good shon," he finished blearily.

Lucius didn't know what to say to that. So he pretended he hadn't heard, and left the room.


	3. Losing Touch

**Losing Touch**

Bellatrix Black was miserable. Beautiful, but miserable, much like the house in which she now stood. She wished, for the thousandth time, that Cissy had been old enough to come here instead. _She _would probably have enjoyed it. Hell, who was she kidding? Cissy would have _loved _this. Bella, on the other hand looked upon outings in pureblood society as a form of torture akin to death by papercuts. Her parents, naturally, had accompanied her, and they had scarcely left her side all night. They steered her around the room, a hand on each bare shoulder, gliding from one eligible young pureblood to another, their forceful grip a double bind to keep her from escaping. Dully, Bella pondered the difference – her father's palm was hot and slightly sticky, while her mother's skin was cool and dry as a snake's, red-painted talons digging into her daughter's delicate white flesh. Bella scowled in annoyance. She had actually made an effort tonight, hoping to appease them. She had donned the new, floor-length sapphire silk dress without complaint, and even swept her dark hair into an eleborate updo. But nothing, it seemed, would please her parents. No, they still insisted upon treating her like a child. Worse than a child, in fact – they treated her like a piece of livestock to be bought and bartered.

For almost two hours now, Bellatrix had crossed and criscrossed the room, making small talk and smiling through clenched teeth while her parents, on either side, extolled her classic Black family good looks and her high marks at Hogwarts, and discussed her flair for dancing and love of reading as if she wasn't even there, as if she couldn't even _hear _them. It didn't even _matter _that she was there , she thought resentfully. She wasn't required to do much more than smile and nod, displaying as much life as a mannequin in Madam Malkin's robe shop. And all the while the other pureblood parents smiled and nodded, running their eyes over her with unashamed calculating greed. She wouldn't have been surprised if they attempted to prise her mouth open and examine her teeth, at this rate.

The music started up just after ten'o'clock. But if Bella had been expecting the evening to take a turn for the better, she was sorely dissapointed. Apparently, eligible pureblood men were composed entirely of left feet and flailing limbs. Shunted back and forth in various - horrific – parodies of the waltz and the foxtrot, Bella could only close her eyes and pray for it to end soon. Eventually, she snapped. Now sporting a Galleon-shaped bruise on her shin, she flung her last partner – an uncoordinated, stringy-looking member of the Travers family- away from her and stalked off to find one of the Malfoy Manor's many lavish bathrooms.

Bella could hear conversation as she opened the bathroom door, but as soon as she stepped inside silence fell over the room. A giggle was quickly stifled.

"Hello, Bellatrix," a falsely cheery voice called. "Enjoying the party? I expect you were glad to get an invite."

Bella narrowed her eyes. Of course. Rita Skeeter and Susannah Avery. Two of the biggest gossips in Slytherin house. Curiously, both girls had corkscrewing yellow curls and thin, pinched faces, although they weren't even closely related. The only thing that truly distinguished one girl from the other were the green, glittering horn-rimmed spectacles Skeeter wore. Bella loathed both of them on principle, more even than some Gryffindors, which was shocking in itself. She scowled.

"What were you saying about my family?" she asked dangerously. In reality, of course, she had overheard nothing of their conversation. It was a paranoid guess, nothing more, that drove her to ask. But she could tell she had guessed right.

Avery squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, looking to the other girl for guidance. There was a moment's silence, and then -

"Oh alright! I just wanted to know if you'd heard anything from that poor mad sister of yours. Because Susie says she saw her on Wednesday. Actually saw her, in Diagon Alley of all places. Can you believe it?" Rita breathed.

Susannah nodded wickedly, in on the game now. "It's true," she said gleefully. "She was just standing outside Florean Fortescue's, as bold as you like...."she lowered her voice climactically, "....holding the _baby,_and then _he_ walked up and just started sucking her face in the most disgusting way you can imagine....It put me right off my ice-cream, I don't mind telling you. And I doubt I was the only one. I mean, does she have no shame? Clearly not."

Rita sniggered. "What _I _don't understand is how she got through the wall in the first place. Not when _I'd _heard she'd snapped her wand in two and gone off to live the Muggle life."

"Eugh, can you imagine it?" her companion asked disgustedly. And then the two girls were doubled over, laughing so hard Bella hoped they might choke. She glared at them. _Look at them,_ she thought. _Sat there in their gaudy fake satin dresses and cheap costume jewellery, laughing like hags. How __**dare**__ they offend me? How __**dare**__ they laugh at a Black?_

Bella gripped her wand so tightly she could almost have sworn she heard the wood crack. Anger seethed in her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to hex these girls into oblivion. The jinxes however, remained caught somewhere in the cage of her teeth, uncast. She was dimly aware of lowering her wand._ Mother....Father......_The image of their furious faces forced her to back down. They would never forgive her, if she disgraced them tonight. And so she did the only thing she could do – lowered her wand and almost ran from the room, fresh cackles of laughter ringing in her ears.

Bellatrix had never backed down from a challenge before, and the ignominy of it made her feel physically sick.

On her way back to the party, Bellatrix turned around and purposely plunged instead into a darker hallway, losing herself. She walked quickly, but not anxiously. If anyone did find her, she decided, she would simply tell them she was lost. It was only half a lie, after all. She needn't have worried. The corridors were gloomy and deserted, and she didn't stumble across so much as a house-elf doing the rounds. It was reassuring, in an odd way. The cold, dead-fish eyes of Malfoys long buried stared down at her from the many portraits lining the walls and a tightly woven carpet swallowed the sound of her footsteps. Walking like this, Bella could almost pretend she was the only person in the world, could tell herself they didn't exist – Mother, Father, _Andromeda_, Skeeter, and all the others like her. They faded away into nothingness, and Bella could breathe again. Her anger abated slightly, and she was just about to turn back when she saw a light shining faintly at the end of the hall. Curious, she moved closer and found herself in a brightly-lit, oak-panelled study. A heavy, matching oak desk stood in the centre of the room, and on the opposite wall a life-size portrait of Abraxas Malfoy slumbered, drooling, in a gilt-edged frame. The room appeared to be empty, and the sleeping portrait occassioned only a contemptuous snort from Bellatrix. Clearly, Abraxas Malfoy didn't guard his study well. Bella wandered over to his desk. It was much like her father's, a mess of half-finished letters and twisted quills, with inkstains on the wooden surface. She found what she was looking for in an unlocked drawer and hefted it out, hesitating only a moment. The heavy crystal bottle was more than two-thirds full with amber liquid, which sloshed enticingly inside. Wiping the mouth of the bottle clean with her hand, she raised it to her lips, and smirked as she drank. She knew what she was doing was dangerous. Even Cissy, dim-witted as she was, would have realized it was a less than stellar idea to break into the emergency firewhiskey stash of a man renowned for his cruelty and alcoholism – a man rumoured to have been a wife-beater, and whom gossips had spent ten years trying to link to the death of said wife. She didn't even like to think about what he might do to her if he caught her. Yet somehow, this only added to the fun tonight.

The first gulp of firewhiskey scalded her throat and set her stomach on fire, but, again, she didn't care. She didn't stop, but rather continued drinking, aiming to swallow as much alcohol as possible as quickly as possible. After a while, it didn't even hurt. The liquid, she noticed presently, had a smooth, mellow taste, and it warmed her insides going down.

Bella didn't know how long she stood at the desk for, drinking in silence with only the comatose portrait for company. Suddenly, she became aware of a noise in the hall, growing closer all the time. Stuffing the bottle behind her back, she hastily scanned the room, searching for an escape route. The only feasible option, she realized, was the French window behind her, and to cap it all off, the latch seemed to be stuck. She wrestled with it, panicking, as the unknown intruder drew closer, until finally she lost patience and pulled out her wand. Hoping her underage magic would be masked by that of the adults in the house (as it frequently was at home), she slurred "_Diffindo!" _The handle broke apart in her hand and then Bella was free, tumbling out into the icy grounds. She did her best to run, but hadn't counted on the effects of the firewhiskey. The sharp, stinging air of a February night acted like a slap in face, and suddenly she felt simultaneously sick and dizzy. The ground lurched uncomfortably beneath her feet........

"Stop."

The voice was faintly familiar, and it made her think inexplicibly of school and shiny things. Then she turned and realised why. Lucius Malfoy, Hogwarts Head Boy, was staring at her. Even today, at his _birthday party _she could see the silver badge gleaming on his chest. For some reason, the sight made her giggle, and once she'd started she found she couldn't stop. She laughed uncontrollably, while Malfoy stared at her, nonplussed. "What's so funny, Bellatrix?" But she couldn't answer, so she simply waved his question away and put a hand to her ribs, fighting the pain now ripping at her side. She really _should _stop laughing, she knew, but she couldn't. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like this. Before Andromeda left, certainly.

Then Malfoy muttered something about drunks and just like that, all Bella's stolen happiness drained away. It wasn't what he'd said so much as how he'd said it. It was that tone of disgust, the one that always, always seemed to be levelled at her. She had heard it so many times before, in her father's voice, in her mother's, in Andromeda's, the night she left.....even _Rita Skeeter _used it.

"Stop it!" she shrieked. "Stop it! Why does everyone hate me?" she demanded, furious. "Why am I never good enough? I try everything, and it never works. I'm never good enough, ever!" Lucius made as if to interrupt her but she shook her head, enraged. "No!" she cried. "Stop telling me to shut up and get married and stay silent for the rest of my life, because I won't do it! You hear me? I won't!"

"Bellatrix," Lucius interrupted with a grimace. "Calm down. You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying....."

"No! You're doing it too, don't you see? You're even using the _voice_! You....you hate me too...but I don't know why. Don't you see? I'm not the wrong one...I'm in the _right._ Andy left her own family, her own sisters, just walked out on us like we meant nothing to her.....and...and she said _I _was _deluded_. I can't help it if I know what's right! I mean, Mother and Father should be grateful for that! I would never...but they don't. They hate me. It's like they're punishing me for the things _she _did wrong and I don't know how to make them......how to make them. . . ."

"Stop," Lucius suggested quietly, and Bellatrix nodded, struggling to keep her eyelids open.

"I don't know how to make them stop. . . ." she finished weakly. Lucius stared at her for a long moment, an odd expression on his face. At last he spoke.

"Bellatrix," he said awkwardly, "I. . .er.. . .I don't hate you. I wasn't angry at you either. Actually, I quite admire you."

Bellatrix goggled at him. Unless she was very much mistaken, she had just received a compliment from Lucius Malfoy, who famously didn't _feel_. He was curiously distant now, staring at the overly-shined tips of his shoes with a faintly disturbed expression. He was quiet for a long time. At last he murmured something.

"I can't make them stop either."

Bella had been shocked when she laughed, but that was nothing to the hammer-blow of horror she felt as her eyes stung and she realized that _Lucius Malfoy _of all people, was going to make her cry. _No, _she thought furiously, _Bellatrix, you don't __**cry**__!You never cry! It's a weakness, remember?_ What was she doing, channelling Cissy? Stunned, she moved backwards almost without realizing it until the backs of her knees knocked against something solid. Oh, of course. Lucius Malfoy's fountain had been somewhere behind her, hadn't it? She had been able to hear the water.

Lucius started forwards with a warning cry a little too late. The waters of the fountain had already closed over Bella's head.


	4. Teenage Angst

**Teenage Angst**

The party was horrendous.

Well, what did he expect? He had organized it after all, and it was everything a pureblood gathering ought to be. He had known he wouldn't enjoy it. Lucius took his watch out of his pocket and shook it in quiet despair. Eleven 'o' clock, and all the shaking in the world couldn't encourage time to run any faster.

By this stage, the party was an ocean of champagne and gossip, and Lucius was starting to feel distinctly hunted. Overbearing mothers were eying him with interest, and he had more preening young women thrust at him than he cared to count. For appearance's sake he danced with Susannah Avery (a rather vile girl), and the sister of Nott, a fellow Death Eater. The latter was preposterously timid, and so dull that he had forgotten even her name less than five minutes into the dance. Nott himself appeared not long afterwards, accompanied by Evan Rosier and Antonin Dolohov. Three Death Eaters, all of whom declined to stay long. They provided him with some interesting news concerning their recent activities, and advised him to subscribe to the Daily Prophet to avoid missing anything while he was at Hogwarts. "Check out tomorrow's headline," Rosier said with a wink.

"Watch it," Dolohov growled.

But Abraxas Malfoy, asleep in an armchair and utterly oblivious to the din around him – let alone his son's conversation – was the only person close enough to hear anything.

"Alright, alright," Rosier said, throwing up his hands in despair. "Hadn't we better get a move on anyway? I doubt they'll stay in one place all night."

"Yeah, you've got a point. See you, Malfoy. Unless you've changed your mind?"

Lucius shook his head. "No. I should really stay. I have to give a speech at some point."

Dolohov shrugged. "Your loss."

They left, and Lucius had to fight the urge to fling himself at their feet and beg to go with them. _That _was how sorely tonight was testing his pride, and his patience. But he didn't. He watched them go instead, and cast his gaze about the room for someone tolerable to talk to, without much success. No-one here seemed to care much about the cause, or the Dark Arts, and that was really all Lucius cared to talk about. There was always Bellatrix Black, he supposed. He had glimpsed her earlier on, and from the expression on her face, had surmised that she was the only person finding tonight as insufferable as he was. But now she seemed to have disappeared. Her parents were standing by the buffet, alone. Well, the buffet was out of the question. The steak-knives and salad-forks were altogether too tempting, in his current frame of mind. He might massacre half the guests out of sheer irritation.

That settled it. If he was going have to give a speech in this mood, he would require further assistance. Turning on his heel, he left the hall and headed up the corridor to his father's study, and the bottle the old man kept there. He would hardly notice a missing glassful.

Opening the drawer, however, Lucius received a surprise. The bottle was gone. That was. . .odd. The stopper was on the floor, and as he bent to pick it up, a cold breeze played across his forehead. A breeze? That was even stranger. The French window, Lucius knew, had rusted shut years ago, and Abraxas had never bothered to fix it, just as he rarely bothered to leave the house. But the window was open now, the catch hanging at an angle and the glass splintered. Carefully, Lucius stepped outside.

Bellatrix Black was the first thing he saw. She was standing just in front of the fountain, swaying ever so slightly with the almost-empty bottle clutched in one hand. He had recognized her immediately, of course, by the dark of her hair and the colour of her dress, both of which were faintly discernable in the dark. She turned around to face him and half-raised the bottle for another hearty swig of firewhiskey. She lowered it, however, before it had even reached her lips, staring instead at Lucius with an implaceable expression. And then she started to _laugh._

That was too much. He felt his cheeks flame as she doubled over, wracked with nonsensical laughter. He coudn't see what was so funny. _But of course, _he told himself. _She's drunk. _His father often flew into similiar fits of rage and laughter when under the influence. "Drunk," he said disgustedly, the word sharp as bile upon his tongue. And Bellatrix flew into an instantaneous fit of rage, her good humour abandoned so quickly that Lucius wondered if it had even been real in the first place. Suddenly, she was all but screaming at him, shrieking her hatred for the world to hear. He tried to stop her, but she wasn't having any of it. So Lucius stood there feeling ineffectual and confused and distinctly astonished. Because he had known Bellatrix Black for years now, in passing at least, and it shocked him that she was capable of this. He had always seen her as a curiously _strong _presence, a girl who could walk into a room full of idle gossips and behave so outrageously that they were forced to take up a new topic – her. A spiteful girl with a dangerous gleam in her eye, whose whole demeanor suggested that she had _plans. _

"No! You're doing it too, don't you see? You're even using the _voice_! You....you hate me too...but I don't know why. Don't you see? I'm not the wrong one...I'm in the _right._ Andy left her own family, her own sisters, just walked out on us like we meant nothing to her.....and...and she said _I _was _deluded_. I can't help it if I know what's right! I mean, Mother and Father should be grateful for that! I would never...but they don't. They hate me. It's like they're punishing me for the things _she _did wrong and I don't know how to make them......how to make them. . . ."

"Stop," Lucius said, as much to his surprise as anyone else's. The word had flown from his lips unbidden, and he didn't know what had prompted him to finish her sentence for her. He became aware, suddenly, of a strange, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was something fundamentally familiar about those words, her words. He could feel something, some dawning comprehension, floating just out of his reach.

"I don't know how to make them stop," Bellatrix murmured in despair, and the words, again, disturbed him somehow. He felt, for an instant, as though he were a child again, watching, with a strange, hollow-chested feeling, as a black-draped carriage rolled away. He had not cried, at his mother's funeral. No. He frowned at the recollection. He had been too busy to cry, and he supposed, at five years old, that he had not really understood what was happening anyway. He had lost something that day, he remembered and he had searched for it for hours. .. but now he couldn't even remember what it had been. A toy, he supposed. Whatever it was, he hadn't found it. All he had found was his father, asleep in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

He glanced up at Bellatrix, searching for the right words, the words that would close off these oddly uncomfortable memories and turn Bellatrix back into a spiteful teenager with a facade that never cracked. The problem was that Lucius couldn't seem to find them, those magic words that would set the world to rights again. So he settled, instead, for honesty.

"Bellatrix," he said awkwardly, "I. . .er.. . .I don't hate you. I wasn't angry at you either. Actually, I quite admire you."

To that she made no reponse, save to stare at him. He dropped his gaze after a moment, unnerved by the burning intensity of Bella's stare. He focused instead on his shoes, and allowed himself to become lost in thought.

He heard the next words as though a stranger had spoken them, a stranger who knew him better, perhaps, than he knew himself, but whom he could never understand.

"I can't make them stop either."

He frowned. Had he really just said that? Why? Looking up, he found Bellatrix staring at him in a way that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. It was something she seemed to have a talent for. Her eyes seemed unusually huge and bright in her pale face, and he felt a flash of something like concern. Then, unexpectedly, she staggered backwards, hit the rim of the fountain and - while he was still staring at her in shock - toppled backwards into it.


	5. Going Under

**A/N : ****I seem to have forgotten to add this to all the other chaps. It's The Obvious, ie; I do not , have not, and never will own Harry Potter . **

* * *

**Going Under**

The cold slammed into her, driving the air from her lungs. Bellatrix had barely a moment to realize what was happening, and then she was drowning. The fountain was far deeper than it had ever appeared in the distance, and she was horrified as the icy water closed over her head, suffocating her. Flailing desperately, she was dimly aware of her elbow striking the stone, but she couldn't feel any pain. Her entire body had gone numb, but her lungs burned like fire. It was unbearable, and she couldn't help herself screaming – a mistake, as it flooded her mouth with water. Throwing back her head, she struggled for a moment, fighting her fate until her skull impacted on something solid, and the world went blissfully blank.

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"Bellatrix!_ Bellatrix! Wake up!_"

Bella groaned. She was tired, why wouldn't they leave her alone? Someone was shaking her rather forcefully, and her first thought was that it must be Cissy. Only she could be _this _annoying. After a moment, however, she realized that it couldn't be Narcissa. The feel of the hand was wrong, and now that she thought about it, so was the voice. That was a _man's _voice. She jolted upwards.

Lucius Malfoy was kneeling in front of her. She had seen Malfoy in some ridiculously vain outfits over the years, but she couldn't remember him ever looking as odd as this. He was fully dressed, right down to his shoes, but he was soaked to the skin and shivering with cold, his white-blond hair plastered to his skull. "Bellatrix!" he said at last. Was that _relief _in his voice? She stared blankly at him, wondering if he knew how uncomfortable his tight grip on her shoulder was. He muttered something that sounded curiously like _thank god. _And then, in a moment, Bella remembered everything. Abruptly, she twisted out of his grip as several pints of murky water from the fountain chose that moment to make their reappearance. When she had finished vomiting water she coughed and shivered, pulling her knees up to her chin. What was the matter with her? She was tired and weak, and so cold that she still couldn't feel any pain emanating from the huge, blotchy bruise on her arm or the distant, throbbing wound at the back of her head. In fact, all she could feel was the fire still burning in her throat and lungs.

"I don't understand," she said at last, her voice hoarse, and more than a little painful to use. " What happened?"

"What happened?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Bellatrix, you fell into a fountain and almost drowned yourself. I don't see how you can fail to understand. It seems rather simple to me."

Bella shook her head. "That explains how I fell into the fountain, not how I got _out _of it."

"Well I would have thought that was obvious," Lucius said tersely. "I pulled you out." He shuddered a little then, and Bella couldn't tell if he was embarassed, regretful or simply cold.

"But. . . that means you saved my life. _You saved my life._"

Lucius frowned at her. "Of course," he said uneasily. "What else would I have done? You were _drowning._"

Bella could only stare at him. He had saved her life, jumped into a freezing fountain after her with scarcely a heartbeat's consideration. She couldn't think of even one other person who would do the same. And so, hardly understanding why she did so, she leaned forwards and pressed her numb, frozen lips to his.


	6. Sweet Talk

**A/N : Guess who's back, back again? (Sorry Marshall!). This is only temporary, I'm afraid. I will have to give up my internet access again, until about two weeks into January. I'll still try and write though, for Carolinear and Trixiebell, my two readers! An Xmas prezzie, then, for you two! Now, onto something more boring. . . **

**Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter or pretty much anything you recognize, including the songs whose titles I nick for my chapters. This time around, it's The Killers again. **

**Sweet Talk**

Lucius froze. She was kissing him. _Kissing him. _Logic dictated he do something, but his mind had gone curiously blank. Carefully, he brought his hands up to her shoulders and pushed her away, as gently as he could. At first, she didn't seem to understand what he was doing. She stared at him, evidently confused.

"I don't -"

"I'm sorry."

"Wait a minute. . .you're _rejecting _me?"

To own the truth, Lucius had rather surprised himself. Bellatrix was beautiful, and there were probably a hundred men who would have killed to be in his place. Yet he had pushed her away, and, he realized, offended her into the bargain. _Nicely done, _he thought bitterly. _Rubeus Hagrid probably could have been more tactful._ Perhaps it would help if he apologized again.

"Bellatrix, I'm sorry," he said again. "It really isn't your fault."

The apology, however, didn't quite seem to cut it. Bellatrix crossed her arms and glowered at him.

"Well," she said, "Do I at least get to know _why _I'm being rejected?"

_No, _Lucius thought. _You wouldn't understand. _The truth was a little difficult for _him _to understand. He certainly wasn't about to tell Black that he was afraid of her, ridiculous as it sounded. Besides, there weren't words. Not the right ones, anyway. How could he explain it to her? _She _didn't know how she'd looked, when he'd pulled her out of the water. Blue-lipped and freezing, as still as a corpse. He had thought, for one awful moment, that she was dead. And then she had opened her eyes, and in a way, that had been worse. Because she had looked straight _through _him, as though she couldn't see him at all, or as if he didn't exist. She had stared straight through him with a gaze as clear as glass, and then he knew. He could never let himself care too much about Bellatrix Black, as easy as it would be to fall for her. Because any woman who could look at him like that would never be any good for him. In fact, she would very likely prove the opposite.

"Are you gay?" Bellatrix asked coldly.

"Am I _what?!" _Lucius gaped at her. "Of course not!"

Bellatrix shrugged. "It's the only explanation I can come up with anyway. Because no one in their right mind would turn me down."

"Well that's just ridiculous! Of course I'm not. . .I mean do I _look _like a . . .a . . ."

"Homosexual?" Bella supplied the word with a smirk.

"Yes! I mean no! Oh you know what I mean! I'm not one!"

"Well that's what I'm going with. Unless you have a better explanation for me."

"Perhaps I'm just not in the mood," Lucius said. Damn it. That sounded pathetic, even to him.

"Rubbish," Bella countered, her smirk widening. "Men are _always _in the mood."

Lucius almost choked at that. But that would hardly be conducive to the argument. Well, not to his argument. Instead, he summoned up the Malfoy Sneer, and his coldest tone of voice.

"_Perhaps,"_ he said, "you simply aren't as irresistible as you think you are, Miss Black."

That shut her up. For a moment, she simply looked as if she'd been slapped. Then she fell silent. This made Lucius nervous, because there was something curiously shuttered in her expression,and he couldn't read her face at all. She was thinking, he knew. He could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Well, he wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to execute her revenge.

"I have a speech to give," he said, getting quickly to his feet. To his dismay however, she leapt up with him.

"Excellent,"she said brightly, and while he was still trying to understand the sudden change of mood, her hand shot out, fast as a rattlesnake, and grasped his wrist.

"What the-"

But in one swift movement she had flipped his arm over and ripped up the sleeve of his robe.

"I _knew _it," she breathed, and he was having no trouble reading her expression now, because there was triumph written all over her face. "I knew it." She looked up at him, and there was an emotion he couldn't describe in her eyes. If he had to put a name to it, he might have called it jealousy. Or hunger.

"You don't know anything," he said roughly. He felt as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach, another unidentifiable emotion. How did she know about the Mark? _If his master found out. . . ._

"_Anything," _he said, more forcefully. But her smile only widened maliciously.

"You're one of them," she said. "A Death Eater. Go on, deny it if you want. But I know it's true. You have his mark on your arm. The Dark Lord's mark."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lucius said coldly, attempting to shake her off. She only tightened her grip painfully on his wrist, so that her fingernails drew blood.

"Don't insult my intelligence," she hissed. "I'm not some airheaded idiot, you know. I do _read _the Prophet. And that sign, the skull and the snake. . .. it's _his _sign. It's left above the bodies of people killed on his orders. . . I've seen pictures. And his followers have it branded onto their bodies – onto the skin of their _left arms. . . ."_

"How do you know that?" Lucius asked, panicked. "Who showed you?"

"So I'm right," Bellatrix said delightedly, and Lucius realized he had walked straight into a trap. He could have cursed himself.

"I didn't say that," he insisted, backtracking desperately. He didn't get any further, however, as he was interrupted by Druella Black's appalled shriek.

"_Bellatrix Black! What in Merlin's name have you been **doing?! **Get over here this instant and **explain yourself! Now!"**_

"We'll talk about this later," Bellatrix hissed, dropping his arm in an instant. A moment later she was gone, and Lucius was left standing soaked to the skin and shivering on his own front lawn, his head spinning with an awful sense of foreboding.


	7. Ways and Means

**A/N : Chapter Seven! In which Bella schemes, and displays latent insanity. Nice girl.**

**This is for Tara, my lovely reviewer, because I forgot to shout her out last time, and I **

**love my reviewers, really I do. For you sweetie.**

**Disclaimer – I'll let you know if I fall into a parallel universe where I own Harry Potter, and can hold a note (vocal or instrumental). Until then. . . I own nothing, and no-one laments it more than me. **

**Ways and Means**

Midnight.

Alone in the empty common room, Bellatrix watched the flames flicker, close to death, in the fireplace. It was getting late, and Slughorn's essay wasn't going to finish itself, but she couldn't seem to focus. Who cared, after all, about the sedative properties of some rare herb? Picking up the book with heavy fingers, she dragged her eyes to the index and tried to concentrate. Try as she might, however, she couldn't seem to stop her gaze from sliding, unseeing, over the text. _Asphodel. . .. .nightshade. . .belladonna. . . .belladonna.. . . ._Cursing, she shut the book with a snap and threw it to the floor. Her quill and parchment joined it there a moment later. Yawning, she glanced at the damp stone walls of the underground room, and tried not to think about the almost-full moon high overhead. Not for the first time, she wished she wasn't in Hogwarts. While school might, at present, be preferable to home, the truth was that she didn't want to be in either place. She had outgrown them both, and now found herself at a loss as to where to go next. She knew, of course, where she was expected to go – straight to the nearest church and up the aisle. And that would be it. The sum of her life – a ring on her finger and a few children to keep somebody else's name going, and deathly boredom until the day she dropped down dead. Bellatrix shuddered. No. That couldn't be her life. She wouldn't _let _it be her life. She didn't care if she had to take drastic measures to prevent it, or what her parents thought. _That would not be her life. _

Some first year brat had left a chess set carelessly on the table, midway through a game. This being wizarding chess, of course, the pieces had quickly tired of inactivity. In the absence of their owner, and confused by the sudden halt in the game, they had grown restless. Two white knights were currently wrestling in the centre of the board, oblivious to the black queen stealing slowly towards them. A few of the pawns had fallen off the table, unnoticed by the other pieces, and were now wriggling impotently on the floor, while a fat black bishop was attempting to sidle off the board and make a break for freedom. Fixing her sights on him, Bellatrix scowled in irritation and raised her wand. _"Confringo!"_ she muttered, smirking as the bishop fell on its side and began to writhe silently, the black paint peeling clean of the charred wood and melting away. She lifted the spell when only a small pile of ash remained. If there was one thing Bellatrix Black hated, it was things that refused to stay in their proper place. If you were a black chess piece, she reasoned, you should stay with your own kind, not try and _leave. _Black should stay with Black.

Bella's ruminations were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the corridor. A moment later there was a grinding noise, and the stone door of the Slytherin common room slid to one side, revealing a familiar figure silhouetted against the light. Lucius Malfoy. Smiling now, Bella sat up straight. Malfoy had been several days late returning to school, and the fact that he was now sneaking in in the middle of the night. . . _Well well Malfoy, _Bella thought with a smirk, _Are you avoiding me?_

"Malfoy!" she called. "Come and sit down."

Raising her wand, she pointed it at a nearby chair, drawing it closer to her. "Sit down," she repeated, enjoying Malfoy's discomfort. For a moment, he looked as though he might try and ignore her. Eventually, however, manners won out, as she had known they would, and he sat down.

"What do you want, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix smiled. "That's not quite the right question, Malfoy. Why don't you try 'What can I do for you, Bellatrix?'"

Malfoy swallowed, and Bella's smile widened.


	8. One Way Or Another

**A/ N : Chapter Eight! In which Bella is a bitch and Lucius finds himself in a rather odd conundrum. And chess pieces pop up, for no apparent reason. Again. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer – I still don't own anything. Keep asking though, JK might sign all the rights to a billion pound franchise over to me. In my dreams. **

**If you like, please review. I'm getting desperate. **

**One Way Or Another**

Lucius had put off returning to Hogwarts for three days, hoping, in the process, to avoid running into Bellatrix Black. He had apparated to Hogsmeade late that evening and walked the distance to the school, rather than taking the Floo Network directly into Slughorn's office. He had needed the extra time to think, although he had not, in the event, come any closer to a solution. Visiting the Headmaster had wasted more time, though not nearly enough. Dumbledore had readily accepted the story of his father's illness, and why wouldn't he? It wasn't really a lie, after all. Abraxas really had collapsed after Lucius' party, complaining of pains in his torso. Lucius would have suspected a heart attack, if he'd thought the old man had enough of a heart. As it transpired, his father had simply forgotten to take the potion which stopped his liver turning into stone after decades of alcohol abuse, meaning his cirrhosis had kicked in. _Perhaps I shouldn't have offered him that drink, _Lucius remembered thinking, as he sat on a rickety wooden chair in the St. Mungo's waiting room. The thought hadn't bothered him for long, though, as it was another face entirely that swam to the forefront of his mind as he stared, unseeing, into the depths of his coffee cup. Bellatrix Black.

Sighing, Lucius left the Headmaster's office and began the long climb down to the dungeons. He walked quickly, untroubled by the prospect of bumping into Filch. The Head Boy's badge gleaming on his chest gave him as much right as any teacher to prowl the corridors after dark. Lucius smiled, fingering the corner of the badge. He really did love being Head Boy. It had been his first real taste of power, and he frequently found himself impressed by the instant respect the tiny scrap of silver provided. His master, he knew, found this rather amusing, for reasons he had never specified. Lucius didn't mind. It had been over ten years, after all, since a Slytherin had attained the position, a fact that made Lucius rather proud of himself.

Eventually, he came to a halt opposite a bare stretch of stone wall. It was past midnight. Surely Black would be asleep by now? He could face her tomorrow. _"Parselmouth."_ He spoke the word to thin air, and sure enough a section of the wall slid away, granting him admittance to the common room. Wincing slightly at the loud grinding noise made by stone on stone, Lucius stepped inside.

"Malfoy! Come and sit down."

The voice that sounded was the one he least wanted to hear. Bella Black was sitting in front of a dying fire, exuding triumph. For one wild moment, Lucius considered ignoring her. But that would be rude.

"Sit down," she repeated, pulling up a chair to emphasize the point.

With no way out, Lucius was forced to sit down opposite her. "What do you want, Bellatrix?" he asked warily. She smiled maliciously in response.

"Well, that's not quite the right question, Malfoy. Why don't you try 'What can I do for you, Bellatrix?'"

"What can I do for you, Bellatrix?" Lucius parroted stiffly. He was starting to feel as though he were trapped in a waking nightmare. Why couldn't he have modified Black's memory that night at the party? But of course, there had been witnesses. Her mother had been there, for a start, and anyone could have looked out the window . . .Even now, he couldn't be sure she was alone. Black, meanwhile, was watching him, contemplating. At last she spoke.

"Alright," she said carefully, smoothing down the front of her robes. "Let's establish the facts, shall we? You're a Death Eater. One of _his _followers. I assume you're not going to deny it any more?"

Lucius shook his head, defeated. There wouldn't be much point, after all. She had seen the Mark.

She smiled again at his response.

"Good," she said. "I didn't think you would. So. . ." she hesitated. "When did you become one?"

Lucius gaped at her. Of all the questions he had been expecting her to ask , this one had not been high up on the list. And there it was again, in her expression. . . .that strange longing. That _hunger._

"During the summer," he admitted, pushing away the creeping feeling of apprehension. "Of course, I haven't been able to do much, at school. I was given the Mark a few months ago."

"So you were sixteen when he recruited you?"

Lucius nodded. Was it his imagination, or was she breathing much more quickly now?

"It's not a game, Black," he said forcefully. " This isn't _school_ or anything like don't know what you're dealing with."

"Maybe not," she conceded. "But I intend to find out."

"What are you -"

"Take me to him."

"What?!" Lucius exploded. "_Take you to him?_ Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

"A chance! That's all I'm asking for! Just bring me to him, and let him decide. That's all I want!"

"Absolutely not."

Lucius got to his feet. The girl was mad. She had to be. She was glaring at him now, furious, but Lucius didn't care.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "I'd advise you to do likewise." He turned to leave.

"Not so fast."

Bellatrix had jumped to her feet, determination clear in the set of her jaw. He laughed.

"Give up, Black. There's nothing else you can do. You can tell people about the Mark if you want, but I can assure you my master will be less than pleased with you if you do."

She scowled, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Okay. So I can't tell people about the Mark. That doesn't mean I can't tell them you're gay."

Lucius stared at her. The girl had lost her mind, clearly. He laughed uncomfortably.

"Except that I'm _not._"

She smiled unpleasantly. "Aren't you?"

"Just because I'm not currently seeing anyone doesn't mean I'm homosexual, Bellatrix."

She raised an eyebrow. "No, I suppose not. I mean, people would only think that if word got out that you'd done something crazy. That you'd turned down Bellatrix Black, for instance. Because let's face it, what straight man would do _that?_"

Lucius felt his mouth go dry. "Bellatrix, you _know _I'm not gay," he said, fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice. "You can't start that sort of rumour about me just because I . . .turned you down? Do you know how insane that is?"

"Of course. And don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. This is hardly just because you _turned me down._ As if I'd be so petty. You know what I want."

"And you know I said no way."

Bellatrix shrugged. "Looks like you're a homosexual then. For the foreseeable future. And even if you change your mind. . . .well. You know how persistant those gossips can be. Some of those rumours can stick around for _years._" She yawned, and bent down to gather up her things. "Goodnight then."

Lucius hadn't moved an inch. He could feel cold sweat on his forehead. The problem was, he knew _exactly _how persistant those gossips could be. He had grown up surrounded by them, in pureblood society. They were still making up nonsense about Black's sister, over a year after she had left. Hell, they were still gossiping about Abraxas, and they didn't even know _half _of what he knew about the old man. Lucius knew, therefore, that they wouldn't let a small matter like the truth stop them. He was caught, and he knew it.

"You win," he said quietly.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you. Sorry Malfoy."

"I _said _you win, alright?" Lucius forced the words out through clenched teeth. "I'll take you to him."

Bellatrix straightened up, smiling again. Picking up a chess piece from the abandoned board she tossed it into the air, catching it gracefully in one hand. "Checkmate, Malfoy," she said, opening her fingers. Nestled in the palm of her hand was the black queen.


	9. Show You How

**A/N : Chapter Nine, in which Bella and Lucius go on a date. In a manner of speaking. **

**This is for my latest reviewer, .., because my cheeks are still burning from all that praise. Seriously. I may have to install a little fan on my desk, to cool my face as I type. Love. **

**Disclaimer – I'm not Jo Rowling. Obviously. Or The Killers, who provide today's title. Again!**

**This was a fun chapter to write. Reviews? x**

**Show You How**

The seat Bella Black was curled up in would have been described as a window seat, if a dungeon common room could be said to possess such a thing. As it was, it was more of an alcove, a small section scooped out of the stone wall into which someone, long ago, had wedged a seat. It was draughty, and far from the warmth of the fire, but Bella rather liked it. She was easily overlooked, sitting there, but she could see everyone who came and went in the common room. Excluded yet integrated.

At the moment, Bella was frantically trying to finish a Transfiguration essay due the next morning. Professor McGonagall, in her early thirties, was a relatively young teacher, but that didn't stop her from being a complete dragon. Bellatrix was sure she disliked her, which suited Bella just fine, because the feeling was mutual. Bella dipped her quill in the ink pot and scribbled quickly, spinning line after line about human transfiguration from memory. Her mind, in all honesty, was elsewhere. It had been a week since her altercation with Malfoy, and she had hardly heard from him since. _He promised, _he thought bitterly, as yet another giggling couple swept past her, on their way to Hogmeade. _Idiots. _She bent over her work and wrote faster, ignoring the ink that flecked her cheek as she did so.

"Hi Bella."

A small voice sounded next to her and she looked up to see Narcissa standing there, fiddling with the ribbon at the end of her plait.

"Narcissa, I'm busy."

Her cold tone of voice, and the use of her sister's full name, did not have the desired looked up a few seconds later to see that Cissy hadn't moved. She was now fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade, Bella?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "No, Cissy, I am not _going to Hogsmeade. _Believe it or not, I have better things to do with my time than shop for sweets and watch people like Weasley and Prewett drool all over each other in Madam Puddifoot's."

Cissy frowned. "I heard Madam Puddifoot's is rather nice." She sighed. "I wish I could go to Hogsmeade."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Next year, Cissy," she said impatiently.

"I suppose," Cissy said limply. She was silent for a few beats, staring quietly at her shoes. "Bella, I feel sick."

Bella frowned. "What are you talking about? You were sick, what, two weeks ago?"

"Three weeks ago," her sister said glumly. "But you know, I think there's something going round."

"There's _always '_something going round' with you, Cissy. And Mother _always _believes you, because you're her little favourite. How many weeks off school have you had this year? Six? Seven?"

Narcissa blushed. "It's not like that."

"Cissy, the whole point of going to school is to get an education. I don't know how you expect to do that if you keep scuttling home all the time, playing sick. I don't know why you're doing it, anyway. Just because of a few spiteful little first years."

"Second years. I'm a second year now."

"Whatever." Bella waved a hand dismissively. "That's not the point. The point is, you're a _Black._ Stand up for yourself. No-one else is going to do it for you, and you have to start sometime."

"I think it's measles."

"Oh for Salazar's sake!" Bella exploded. "There's nothing wrong with you, Cissy. And if you go home complaining of measles, I will make it my business to march up to Mother and scrub every one of those spots off, right in front of her face. Are we clear?"

"You don't understand," Narcissa muttered, her blue eyes filling with tears. "You never understand."

"There's just no talking to you, is there? I mean, at least I _try, _don't I? Which is more than-"

"Ahem." She was interrupted at that moment by the silly, giggling voice of Rita Skeeter.

"_What?"_

Bella whipped round to face the girl, scowling in a way that might have given even Professor McGonagall pause for thought. It certainly checked Skeeter, if only for a moment.

"Lucius Malfoy wants to talk to you," she said. Sure enough, Malfoy stood directly behind her, wearing an expression that could only be described as uncomfortable. "I wonder what he wants," Rita continued in a stage whisper. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Cissy, typically, had availed of the distraction and fled the common room.

"What do you want?" she said rather brusquely. She was in no mood to deal with Malfoy.

"We, er, said we were going to Hogsmeade, remember? Together?"

Skeeter made an odd, strangled noise. It sounded as if she were choking on a fish bone. Bella glared at her, and then at Malfoy.

"I don't remember that," she said coldly. Malfoy coughed awkwardly.

"Yes, you do," he corrected. "We, er, talked about it. Last week. I just didn't get back to you with the details of our, er, _date."_

His face was now a rather fetching shade of pink, but it was nothing like as bright as Skeeter's. "_You're __**dating**__ Lucius __**Malfoy**__?!" _she almost screamed, scandalized. Lucius stared at her, apparently quite alarmed. Bella didn't blame him – Skeeter was an alarming sight at the best of times. But what was Malfoy thinking? As if she would go on a _date _with him, especially after the things he'd had the nerve to say to her before. She opened her mouth to correct him, and then, quite suddenly, she understood. He didn't want to take her on a date. He wanted to take her on a _date. _She stared at him, her mouth hanging open.

"_Now?" _she asked hoarsely. _"Today?"_

Malfoy nodded while Skeeter stared, nonplussed, from one to the other. Bellatrix leapt to her feet, ignoring the rolls of parchment that fell to the floor as she did so, and the ink that was now seeping into her Transfiguration essay. Her heart was pounding, and she felt faintly sick.

"You could have warned me," she muttered to Malfoy. But he only shook his head.

"I didn't have time. _We _don't have time."

"Well then what are we waiting for?!" Bella yelped. The thought that they might be late did nothing to quell her nerves. "_Accio cloak!" _she cried, and her cloak flew across the common room towards her, knocking over a small first-year boy in the process. His companions giggled at Bella's dramatics, but she disregarded it, hastily swinging the cloak around her shoulders. "Come _on, _Malfoy," she growled, tugging at his arm. "Let's _go."_

She had hauled him halfway across the room before a thought struck her. Skeeter fancied Malfoy. Of course – it was so _obvious _now. And she thought there was something going on. . . . Bella smiled. She had always hated Skeeter. So she did what anyone in her situation would do – she linked arms with Lucius Malfoy and ran a hand lightly over his chest, ignoring his slight wince.

"Well, we are _dating _now," she hissed in his ear. "Thanks to you. So play along or they'll get suspicious."

Lucius nodded, and Bella smirked again. This really was too easy. "So Lucius," she purred, just loud enough for Skeeter to hear, "are you taking me somewhere nice?"

She got one glimpse of the other girl's stricken face, and then the common room door slid shut behind them and she let go of Malfoy, crossing her arms tightly to try and hold back the laughter.


	10. Start Something

**A/ N : Now we're going places! Haha. By the way, if anyone new is reading this, PLEASE review, because at the moment, I think I only have four readers or something like that. Not _very_ encouraging, but this is tremendously fun to write, so I'd love to know what other people think. Thanks to everyone who already has reviewed, I love you guys! Gals. Ah, whatever. You know who you are. x**

**Also, I don't usually update this fast! I'm sick and also a terrible insomniac, which doesn't mix well with bedrest! I'm dragging myself back to university tomorrow though. Bella meets Voldemort next chapter, but I don't trust myself to write that when I'm sick. I shudder just _thinking _of the typos that might find their way in there. **

**Disclaimer – Well I still aint Jo Rowling. It's not happening people! This chapter title comes from Lostprophets. I don't own that either.**

**Start Something**

A light, misty rain was falling over Hogsmeade, and the skies above were grey and overcast. Lucius walked quickly through the little town, though he doubted he was walking quickly enough. His master had summoned him unexpectedly but he suspected that that was intentional. The Dark Lord didn't like to give prospective followers time to prepare themselves before meeting him, but Lucius hadn't expected him to send for Black quite so soon. It was disconcerting, but it offered some hope. Perhaps the mere fact that she was a girl would sway him against her. After all, Lucius thought, scowling, Black didn't even _want _ to be a Death Eater. She didn't know what she was getting herself into.

Black, mercifully, had released him. She was walking by his side now, unusually quiet and rather white looking. _Good, _Lucius thought unsympathetically. _Serves her right. _He still hadn't forgiven Bellatrix for her threat to make him a social pariah, although he had to hand it to her. Not many people could blackmail someone using their own humiliation and a complete falsehood. He picked up his pace as they passed The Hog's Head, ignoring Bellatrix as she slipped and slid on the wet cobblestones. She broke her silence to swear loudly, and the couple in front of them looked back, enabling Lucius to identify them as Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett. Weasley was frowning at him. Apparently he disapproved of the Head Boy's unchivalrous attitude towards his "date". Lucius rolled his eyes and gripped Black gingerly by the elbow to stop her from falling over. "Come on," he muttered, dragging her down a side street and leading her towards the outskirts of the village.

After a few more minutes of silence, Black spoke. "Where are we going?" she asked, and Lucius noticed for the first time that she seemed to have a cold. Probably one of the after-effects of her near-drowning experience. Her voice was hoarse, and she was coughing, something she hadn't been doing in the warm, dry common room. He could only suppose the cold and damp were exacerbating her condition. Once again, he found himself untroubled by the thought. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was a shame her nose wasn't running as well, in Lucius' opinion. The worse she looked the better.

"Away from Hogsmeade," he said shortly, in answer to her question. "I can't tell you where."

Bellatrix nodded. "Fine," she coughed. "Is there anything I should know before I meet him?"

Lucius frowned at her. "Like what?"

"Like . . . how to behave. What not to do. That sort of thing."

Lucius thought for a moment. "Always address him as 'master' or 'my lord'. Never interrupt him, obviously. Show respect at all times, bow when you first see him and never disagree with him. Oh, and never lie to him. That's the most important thing. Never lie to the Dark Lord, because he always knows. Always."

Bellatrix nodded, carefully processing the information. Lucius watched her for a moment, expecting more questions, but she didn't ask anything else. The ground was getting steeper now, and the rain was falling more heavily. Though they had long ago lost sight of Weasley and Prewett, Lucius found that he was still holding Bellatrix's elbow. For some reason, he didn't let go. As they left the shops behind, and the surrounding houses grew sparser, a question occured to him.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he said.

Bellatrix looked up, surprised. Apparently she had grown accustomed to the silence. "What?"

"Well . . . whose Mark did you see? Because mine can't have been the first one you've seen. I mean, you knew where it was. You pulled up my sleeve, you knew _exactly _where to look. And no-one else knows that, not even the Ministry. Only the Inner Circle. So who showed you?"

Bellatrix smiled. "Well aren't you a clever boy?"

"Answer the question, Black."

Her smile widened. "Evan Rosier," she said simply. "He's my cousin you see. And a complete prat, might I add. He got drunk one day and decided to show me his new tattoo. Some half-baked attempt to impress me, I think. Anyway, he was dropping all these hints about how important he was now, and how _dangerous, _and how he was headed for great things. It didn't take a genius to figure it out."

_Rosier?_ Well, that was a surprise. "Why would Rosier want to impress you so badly?" Lucius asked. Bellatrix merely smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you _think?" _

Lucius frowned. "You just said he was your cousin."

"He is. His father is my mother's brother. Try telling that to _him."_

Lucius stared. No wonder Black believed herself to be irrestible. He would certainly never look at Rosier the same way again.

The last house in Hogsmeade was a small cottage. A huge, bloated Flobberworm was tied to a pole in the front garden, and Lucius cast the creature a quick look of disgust before turning to Black. She wouldn't like what he was about to do, he was sure.

"Give me your wand," he ordered.

Bellatrix cast him much the same look he had just given the Flobberworm. "No way."

"Stop wasting time," Lucius said impatiently. "Give it to me. You can't appear before our master carrying a weapon."

Bellatrix glared at him resentfully as she passed him her wand and watched him stow it safely inside his robes. "What now?"

Lucius had some kind of silk scarf knotted around his neck. He took it off and held it out. Bellatrix eyed him suspiciously. "You've got to be kidding," she said in disbelief. To his surprise, however, she turned around obligingly enough and allowed him to tie it around her eyes.

"If you let me fall flat on my face, Malfoy, I swear . . . ."

"Don't worry," Lucius said hastily, "I won't let you fall."

She nodded, apparently appeased. It struck Lucius all of a sudden that she was wandless and blindfolded, utterly dependent on him. He could do anything he liked with her.

"Lucius . . ." she said, and for a moment he thought he could even hear that vulnerability in her voice. "Do I . . .do I look alright?"

_What an odd question. _Lucius eyed her up and down. Her cloak was fastened sloppily about her neck,her hair was windswept, and there was a smudge of violet coloured ink on her right cheek.

"You look fine," he told her. And then he gripped her tightly by the elbow once more and turned on the spot, pulling her with him into empty air.


	11. All I Ever Wanted

**A/N : Okay. Um. I really don't know what to say. You see, I just found out that 125 people have read this, and only FIVE have reviewed. My head is just spinning right now. I honestly don't know whether to be incredibly flattered or incredibly annoyed. So I'm just giving up asking for reviews. On a more cheerful note, I'm dedicating this chapter to Expecting Rain, as a thank you for reading and reviewing every chapter. If you like the Secret Garden, check out her fics Forever and Ever and Ever, and its sequel, A Good Year For The Roses, which are both favourites of mine and among the first fanfiction I ever read. **

**All I Ever Wanted**

Malfoy apparated without warning. Blind and disorientated, Bella's knees buckled as her feet hit the pavement, and she would have toppled over, if Lucius hadn't caught her in time. "Are you alright?" he asked, and she nodded, not wanting him to think she was overly fazed by her sudden vulnerability. If there was one thing Bella hated, it was having to depend on other people. Still, she would rather bite her own tongue off than admit that to Malfoy. Dimly, she wondered where they were. It was raining far more heavily here than it been in Hogsmeade, but the rain was warmer, and she could hear the distant rumble of Muggle traffic. London? Maybe.

"Bellatrix? Are you sure you're alright? You look very white."

Bellatrix nodded. Her mouth was so dry that she didn't think she could speak if she wanted to.

"We can go back if you want to, you know. It's not too late to change your mind."

_Go back? _Bella still didn't think she could speak, but she shook her head fiercely, and he seemed to get the message.

"If you're sure . . ." he said uncertainly, and Bella nodded again. Of _course _she was sure. She was just nervous, that was all. It was understandable, in the circumstances. Malfoy didn't ask again. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he carefully steered her across the road, up some steps, and through a door, into a warm, dry hallway, where he removed the blindfold. Blinking, Bella looked around. There were three heavy oak doors, all closed, along the corridor, and a narrow, winding staircase at the end of it. The carpet underfoot was dark green and rather worn looking, and the walls were bare save for a large, gilded mirror beside the coatstand. She was tempted to check her appearance but Lucius was already tugging her onwards. "Wait here," he ordered, disappearing through the very last door. So Bella waited outside, straining to catch the words spoken inside the room. After a moment, he emerged. "Go in," he muttered, holding the door open. "He wants to see you." Bella swallowed nervously, and stepped inside.

The room was quite small, with dark panelled walls and a fire flickering in the grate. In an armchair beside it, a man was reclining. He was tall and thin and unnaturally pale, with dark hair and gaunt, hollowed cheeks. At present his long white fingers were pressed to his temples, but as she approached and bowed, he looked up, and his eyes met hers. Bella felt her breath catch. His eyes were a deep, burning black, but the whites of them were oddly blurred and bloodied-looking. He stared at her, and after a moment his mouth curved into a cold smile.

"Well, well," he said softly. "You _are _a surprise, Miss . . .?"

"Black," Bella said quickly. "Miss Black."

"Black," he repeated quietly. "I see. But I assume you have another name."

"Oh!" Bella said quickly, mortified. "Of . .of course. Bellatrix. My name is Bellatrix, my lord."

"Bellatrix Black. Bella. Hmm." There it was again, that cold, humourless smile. "It suits."

Bellatrix stayed silent. Whatever the joke was, she had missed it. He didn't remark upon it, however, and she decided that perhaps the joke hadn't been aimed at her. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Miss Black," he said, "Lucius tells me you wish to serve Lord Voldemort."

Bella nodded. "Yes," she said hoarsely. The sound of his name, spoken out loud, gave her goosebumps.

"Why would that be?"

He was staring at her again, black eyes boring into hers, but it didn't frighten her. It was . . . bliss. Because quite suddenly, Bella understood. It wasn't an accident, that she was here. How could it be? She had always scoffed at Divination, but now she knew. There _was _such a thing as destiny, because she was meant to be here. She felt as if her whole life had been leading up to this moment, as if she had been blind before she saw this man, and now she could _see. _But how could she put that into words? She opened her mouth, and shut it soundlessly.

"You haven't answered my question, Miss Black," he said. His voice was as calm as ever, but it was laced with a quiet menace now. He stood up, and she noticed for the first time that he was holding his wand, twirling it idly between his slim white fingers. Bella was still on her knees, because he had never told her to rise. He reached forwards, still wearing that cold smile, and tilted her chin, so that they were making eye contact once more. His touch made her feel dizzy and oddly light-headed, and then she was falling.

_She was five years old, holding a baby and crying childishly to Andromeda, "Send her back! I don't like her!" Her sister stroked her hair. "Oh Bella . . ." she sighed. . . . . _

_She was eleven, lost at King's Cross Station, and a Muggle tramp grabbed her ankle. She screamed and rammed her trunk into his leg. There was a sickening crack . . . ._

_Twelve, in a Herbology class. "The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to all who hear it . ." Very carefully, she picked up her wand and burned a hole through a Mudblood's earmuff . . _

_Fifteen, and Andromeda was shouting. "It's not real, any of it! Don't you see? God, Bella, how can you be so **blind**?" _

_Later, and she was standing alone in an empty, devastated room, surrounded by rubble and broken furniture, and it still wasn't **enough . . . .**_

Bella didn't know what he was doing. The images hurtling through her mind were not things she had intended to think about. In some cases, they were things she hadn't ever intended to think about again. But she didn't care, because somehow, through the images, she could see his eyes boring into hers, and that was all she wanted to see. His gaze was intoxicating. Did he know he was doing this to her?

_Professor Slughorn was sitting slumped at his desk, wearing a defeated expression. "Of course you couldn't be expelled, dear girl, but you must understand, I can hardly just **ignore **these, ah, incidents. . . ."_

_Evan Rosier gave her a twisted smile, his arm on hers. "Want to see something, cousin Bella?" She laughed scornfully and threw him off. "Don't you ever give up?" she asked, turning to leave. His grip tightened on her arm . . . . _

_She was standing in Abraxas Malfoy's study, staring thoughtfully at the contents of his desk drawer . . ._

_Lucius was tying a blindfold around her eyes . . . ._

_She opened her hand to see a chess piece resting on her palm. The black queen . . ._

Bella gasped as he lifted the spell, and the images vanished. She looked up and saw that he was staring at her, his head tilted to one side, as though appraising her possibilities.

"Please," she said, "please just let me prove myself. I'll do anything for you."

"Anything?" he repeated. She nodded desperately. He couldn't send her away now, he just _couldn't._

"_Crucio!"_

Bella screamed. It was pain like nothing she had ever felt before. It was worse than drowning because now the burning wasn't just in her throat and lungs, it was everywhere. She fell to the floor, still screaming and writhing in agony. She wanted it to end, she wanted to die . . .

"_Crucio! Crucio!" _he said over and over. He sounded almost _bored. _

Rage bubbled up inside her. How could she let this happen? She was being weak, the very thing she hated the most. Now he would never see her as more than a silly, weak little girl, and he would send her away . . She felt defiance flare in her chest. No. _She would not let this happen. _Sucking in her breath, she held onto it until she thought her lungs would burst, and curled her fingers into fists, digging her nails into her palms until she was sure she had drawn blood. The pain seemed to go on forever. She couldn't stop herself from whimpering every time she took another gulp of air, but she told herself that anything was better than screaming.

The pain stopped abruptly. She couldn't hear anything except the sound of her own ragged breathing, but she waited a moment to be sure he had stopped. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor, curled up in the foetal position with a sheen of cold sweat on her forehead. Her whole body ached, and she thought she might throw up. With another deep, shuddering breath, she forced herself into a sitting position. And jumped.

He was crouched in front of her, watching her with an interested expression. She waited for him to speak, but he didn't.

"I meant what I said, master," Bellatrix told him, her voice hoarse and cracked. "I'll do anything. I can be a good follower, I know I can. Just let me prove myself. I'll do anything for you. And . . I'm sorry. Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry."

He watched her for another long moment, and then, suddenly, he smiled. Seizing her by the arm, he pulled her to her feet. Her head spun.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he informed her.

"But then . .why. . ."

"A test. That's all."

Relief washed over her. She hadn't done anything wrong. She opened her mouth, but he answered her question before she could ask it.

"You have done well," he told her. "You can have your chance, I think."

Bella's mouth fell open. "Really? I . . Thank you, master! Thank you, thank you!"

He raised a hand to silence her. "That will do. You may go, for now."

Bella shut up at once and nodded, ecstatic. Bowing swiftly, she backed out of the room. _You can have your chance . . . . ._ Bella smiled. That was all she'd ever wanted.


	12. Ready Or Not

**A/N : This chapter is for twilight til the break of dawn, whose dedication got a bit mangled in the upload a few chapters ago. Also for sockpuppet82, whose dedication was completely removed somehow, along with some boring line about how I was feeling sick at the time. Reviews? I love to hear from any new readers. Or any of the, um, 152 I apparently already have. I really don't think that can be right. **

**(Yep, I'm back to asking for reviews. I truly have no willpower lol. As made evident by my continuing to write this and review other people's stories, some four days into another failed attempt at bedrest. I think I need tranquilizers. No joke. Anyway. Sorry about that. Just another 3 a.m ramble.) **

**Ready Or Not**

Lucius leant against the wall, eying his reflection. The man in the mirror was blank-faced and oddly white looking, as though he were wearing a mask. Especially when the screaming started. Lucius stared at his white-faced double, watching and waiting for a reaction, and wondering why the only one he could summon was an inexplicable urge to run away and hide.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Black left the room in such a hurry that she ran right into him, and he had to catch her, for the second time that day.

"Bellatrix! Are you . . are you alright?"

Bellatrix's face was paper-white and she had blood on her lip, but her eyes were shining. She nodded breathlessly.

"It was fine. It was great. Lucius . . .he said he'll give me a chance! A chance to prove myself. Can you believe it?"

_No, _Lucius thought bitterly, _I can't. _

"But . .but . . . what about the screaming? I, er, heard screaming."

Bellatrix shook her head and waved a hand impatiently. "That was nothing. Really. Nothing. Now come on, or we'll be late."

Lucius watched, shocked, as she pulled free of him and danced down the front steps and into the street, still wearing the same bright smile. "Come _on_," she called.

"Alright, alright!" Lucius shouted. He ran down the steps after her, careful to pull the door closed behind him, and grabbed her arm. They Disapparated with a loud pop, and reappeared on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Well, that was where Lucius had intended them to reappear. Apparently, his concentration was a little off today. They were halfway up a hill and ankle-deep in mud. Bracing himself for Bellatrix's wrath, he handed her back her wand. Surprisingly enough, however, the expected fury didn't arrive. Black glanced down at the mud staining her expensive dragonskin boots and simply laughed.

"Destination, Determination, Deliberation, Lucius!" she chanted, waving a finger at him.

Lucius stared. Was she drunk? She had to be. He had never seen anyone emerge from a first meeting with the Dark Lord _this _deliriously happy.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, was staring at the setting sun.

"We're going to be late," Lucius realized, dismayed. He was Head Boy. He couldn't end up in detention. It was ludicrous.

Bellatrix grabbed his hand. "Don't be so defeatist," she said with a grin, towing him after her and breaking into a run. "We'll get there!"

"You can't be serious!" Lucius shouted as they stumbled down the hill. He was a Malfoy, for crying out loud! He couldn't remember the last time he had run anywhere, but he was sure that he had been many years younger and several feet shorter. This was ridiculous.

By the time they hit Hogsmeade's high street, Lucius was radish red and gasping for breath, with a ferocious stitch ripping at his side. Rosmerta, the young barmaid at The Three Broomsticks, was washing the windows, but she dropped the bucket as they passed, her mouth falling open in surprise.

"Slow down!" he shouted again. Was he imagining things, or were there two familiar-looking red-headed figures on the road ahead of them?

"Don't think I will!" Bellatrix yelled, fighting to make herself heard above the noise of the wind. It was raining in earnest now, icy droplets saturating Lucius' expensive Italian silk. Just when he thought his lungs might explode, the heavy oak doors of Hogwarts swung open ahead of them and the warm light of the Entrance Hall spilled over him. Lucius had never been more relieved as Bellatrix pulled him up the front steps. He felt his relief fading fast, however, as he looked up at the gleeful face of Argus Filch.

"You're late," Filch crowed, tapping the scroll of parchment in his hand.

Lucius opened his mouth to respond, and then shut it again. He was soaked to the skin and knee-high in mud. Even a Malfoy would find it difficult to be arrogant in _this _situation. He glanced at Bellatrix. She was similarly wet and bedraggled looking, but to his horror she seemed to be smirking. Clearly she would be no help. A voice sounded behind him.

"Oh, but Mr. Filch, that's not fair! They came in just after us, and besides, it's two minutes to six by my watch."

And Lucius had thought the situation was as embarrassing as it could possibly be. Apparently not. The speaker was none other than Molly Prewett, a slightly plump Gryffindor with crinkled, carrot-coloured locks and a kind face. She was from a pureblooded family alright, but everyone knew that she was practically married to Arthur Weasley, and Arthur Weasley, in Lucius' opinion, was a disgrace to the name of pureblood. He wore shabby, hand-me-down robes, all but _flaunting _his poverty, and he took Muggle Studies, which told Lucius all he needed to know. Anyone who took Muggle Studies was obviously soft in the head. Weasley was currently tugging on his girlfriend's hand, bewildered. "Just leave it, Molly," he murmered. "It's not our problem."

Honestly, it was embarrassing enough, surely, that those two had to witness this, without Prewett deciding to actually get involved. Bellatrix had raised an eyebrow. Apparently she found the whole situation too amusing for words.

Filch, meanwhile, had drawn himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest, an evil smile on his lips. "That's not your business," he said. "Rules are rules. And they were late by my watch. Scroll's rolled up now. They can't sign back in."

"Oh but you could _unscroll _it, Mr. Filch," Prewett said beseechingly.

Filch opened his mouth, his jowls quivering furiously. "I could do no such-"

He was interrupted at that moment by a cheerful voice. "Argus! I do hope you aren't keeping these students from their suppers! Haven't you let them sign in yet?"

Filch jumped, but rallied quickly. "No, see . . .they were late, Headmaster! And that being so, I can't let 'em sign the register. It wouldn't be proper."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "Oh I'm sure we can hang propriety for one night, Argus. After all, they aren't _very _late. My watch keeps excellent time, and it is only just striking six. Now come to dinner. The house-elves have really outdone themselves today with a simply sublime strawberry tart. I am insisting all the staff sample it. Hurry up, you four. You don't want to miss it."

Filch gave in with bad grace, flinging the scroll rudely at Prewett and muttering incoherently under his breath as Dumbledore all but dragged him away. Lucius waited awkwardly while the two Gryffindors signed it. To his horror, Prewett didn't leave afterwards. She stood waiting as Lucius and Bellatrix added their names, and then followed them up the corridor, babbling inanely as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"I can't believe how mean-spirited that man is. I mean, it's not as if you were even really late . .Oh, by the way, Arthur and I saw you both in Hogsmeade. Did you have a nice time? Were you in Madam Puddifoot's? They had a lovely homemade carrot cake in today, Arthur and I both agreed it was probably the best we'd ever tasted . . ."

Lucius noticed that her boyfriend was carefully avoiding making eye-contact with either of the Slytherins. He didn't blame him. If he'd been Arthur Weasley at that moment in time, he would have wished for a hole in the ground large enough to swallow him up.

_Oh God, please make it stop, _Lucius thought as their destination came into view, after what felt like an eternity of Prewett's mindless chatter. He felt like screaming when she paused with her hand actually _on the door handle. _

"I meant to say," she added sweetly, "The two of you are such a pretty couple. You look absolutely _adorable _together. Well, bye then!"

Lucius looked at Bellatrix and was pleased to see his own expression of horrified shock mirrored in her face. For the first time that day he felt as if they were on the same wavelength. He turned to go into the Great Hall and was surprised when Black grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," she said. "I just wanted to say . . .thank you. For bringing me to him. I really . . ." She shook her head, wordlessly. "Thank you." Then she flung her arms around her him and kissed him briefly on the forehead, letting go quickly. She was wearing that ridiculously euphoric, punch-drunk smile again. "Come on," she laughed, pushing open the door of the Great Hall. "I'm starving."


	13. Trouble

**A/N : Well this is coming along quite nicely now. Stuff is actually starting to happen and I'm expanding my cast of characters, or I will do as more Death Eaters come into focus. I've also been reading back over the past few chapters and I realize I should probably reiterate that I don't intend this to be a Bella/Lucius pairing. I still intend Lucius to end up marrying Narcissa, but she's obviously way too young in this fic for him to view her in any kind of romantic light. I still have reams of ideas floating around at the moment for this fic, but who knows? Maybe one day when I'm finished this I'll do some Lucissa oneshots. I really hope I'm not disappointing anyone, but Bella and Lucius aren't gonna fall in love. **

**Trouble**

Two weeks passed before Bella saw her new master again. In that time, she thought of little else. She was irritable with Narcissa and Lucius and struggled to concentrate in class, because her head was consumed with thoughts of him. She found herself replaying their only converstion over and over again, dwelling on the wonderful moment when he finally agreed to give her a chance to prove herself. As soon as she closed her eyes at night she found herself sinking effortlessly into his, because that seemed to be all she could dream about. His eyes, boring into hers . . . .

Friday dragged on, and she had never been more desperate for the weekend to come. Sitting in Herbology with Lucius, Bella wondered for the hundreth time what the Dark Lord would ask her to do to prove herself. And when would he ask her? Would he tell her beforehand? Or would this chance come unexpectedly, like the Cruciatus Curse had? She had tried to ask Lucius his opinion, but he was next to useless in that regard. All he told her to do was wait, and read in the meantime. The waiting was tortorous. Still, reading did take her mind off her impatience, because at least committing spells to memory would help her. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was evidently more canny than he appeared, because when Bella went looking in the Restricted Section, she found that all the really good Darks Arts books had vanished from the shelves. Out of desperation, she asked Lucius if he had anything she could borrow.

"But Bellatrix," Lucius said, laughing a little, "Our master will give you books, if you want them. You can ask him tomorrow."

Bella stared. The idea hadn't even occurred to her, but it made her smile. The thought that he might trust her with one of his possessions, with one of his own books, made her feel ridiculously privileged.

Saturday arrived at last, grey and overcast but dry. Bellatrix blindfolded herself this time, but Lucius made no move to take her wand, so she supposed she was now allowed to keep it. The thought pleased her. It felt as if she had passed another little test, and she smiled as Lucius took her arm and Disapparated. The front door was already open when they arrived at the London house. Apparently their master had business elsewhere, but the house wasn't empty. Lucius led her into a different room this time. This one contained two rather hard-looking antique sofas and a single armchair. There was a fireplace in this room too, and the same dark green carpet as before. The only real difference was that the walls here were covered floor to ceiling with books on dark mahogony shelves. There were two men in the room, both several years older than Lucius. One was relatively short and lumpy looking, with sandy hair, while the other was taller, with long black hair in a ponytail that fell down past his shoulders. His long, pallid face was curiously twisted, like a tree root uprooted after a storm. He was no-one's definition of handsome, but Bella had to admit that there was something strangely alluring about him. Perhaps it was the shrewd expression in his eyes, or the calm self-assertion with which he carried himself. Both reminded her, somehow, of her master. "Antonin Dolohov," the man said, his voice a quiet growl. He shook her hand, suspicion in his eyes, and Bella realized at once that Antonin Dolohov was a man who rarely trusted and rarely changed his mind. Well that was good, she thought. There were worse traits to have. The other man, it transpired, was Amycus Carrow. He was far more friendly than she'd expected. It turned out that his sister was also a Death Eater, which made him far more receptive to the idea of a female follower. Neither man stayed long however. They said something to Lucius in low, hurried tones and then departed, each bearing armfuls of books.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to ask what that had been about, but Lucius sprawled onto the sofa opposite her, extending his legs along its length so that Bella couldn't join him there. He then buried his nose in a black, leather-bound book as thick as a tombstone and refused to meet her eye. Bella scowled. She hated that she was being shut out, hated that she wasn't trusted with information yet. _Soon, _a consoling voice in her head whispered. _Don't be so impatient. _She nodded slowly. This was the Death Eaters' game, and the Dark Lord's. She was determined to show them all she could play it.

Half an hour passed, and then an hour. Eventually Bella sighed and carefully replaced _A Compendium of Curses. _To annoy Lucius, she sat on the arm of his chair. He had put away the first book and was now perusing _Inferi Attacks of the Seventeenth Century, _a book which contained a seemingly endless number of very graphic illustrations. Yawning, Bella walked her fingers along the back of Lucius' neck. "Creepy, Lucius," she murmered.

"Hmm." Lucius was deeply engrossed in a testimonial by one Brutus Malfoy at this point, and scarcely seemed to hear her, though she was pleased to see he tensed slightly and cleared his throat uncomfortably at her touch. Bella looked up, startled, at the sound of footsteps in the hall, and she felt her heart leap hopefully as a tall, dark-haired figure appeared in the doorway. Then he moved into the light, and her hopes were swiftly quashed. This man was younger than the Dark Lord, and not half so thin. His grey eyes were set deep in his face, and his features were blunter, and more familiar. Bella yawned and settled back into the arm of the chair, lazily turning a page of Lucius' book. Her cousin held no interest for her.

Rosier could not say the same about her. He entered the room with a relaxed, nonchalant air, but as soon as he saw her he froze. "_You?!" _he shouted incredulously. "What the hell are _you _doing _here?_"

"Well, what do you think I'm doing here?" Bella replied, raising an eyebrow. When he didn't answer immediately she smirked. "Don't worry, Evan, "she said sweetly. "You'll get there in the end. Don't strain yourself."

He shook his head pathetically. "No," he said. "You can't be. You _can't _be. I mean, you, a Death Eater? Don't make me laugh! You're not serious."

Furious now, Bella stood up. Shaking off Lucius' feeble attempt to grab her wrist, she crossed the room until she was standing so close to her cousin the tips of their shoes were almost touching. He had frozen again, but she could feel him trembling uncontollably. Pleased, she leaned in closer still, so that her lips were an inch from his, and they were breathing the same air. There was a shining layer of sweat above his top lip, and distinct panic in his eyes. Bella stayed silent for a long minute, drawing out her moment of power until finally, very slowly, she moved her lips to his ear instead and actually allowed them to brush the skin there as she spoke, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "Oh, Evan," she murmered. "You should be thankful your pea-sized brain is incapable of understanding just how serious I am. Because I am serious, Evan. In fact, I've never been more serious about anything in my life. So you do _not _want to cross me. Understand?"

Rosier made an odd, strangled sound like a mouse being trodden on. Taking this for an assent, Bellatrix stepped back, and watched as he turned, enraged, to Lucius. Apparently he wasn't quite ready to let this go.

"Did you bring her here?" he demanded.

Lucius simply shrugged coolly. "I don't think that's your concern, is it Rosier?" There it was, that supreme, dependable Malfoy arrogance. Today, it was an arrogance that could be depended on to incense Evan Rosier.

"DID YOU BRING HER HERE?" her cousin roared, pulling out his wand. A jet of violet light shot from it and narrowly missed its target, singeing the ends of Lucius' trademark blonde locks as he ducked. That, apparently, was a step too far. With a cry of rage, Lucius pulled out his wand.

"SO WHAT IF I DID?" he shouted mockingly in return, pointing his wand at his aggressor. There was a bang like a gun and a brief, dazzling flash of red light. Rosier went down as if he'd been socked in the stomach, and started to groan hideously, his mouth muffled by the carpet. As Lucius flipped him over with one foot, Bella caught a brief glimpse of a wet, shining crimson _something _forcing its way out of it his mouth. She was quite sure it was part of Rosier's intestines.

"Wow, Lucius!" she shouted approvingly.

At that exact moment Rosier aimed his wand at Lucius, spitting blood, and uttered an extremely mangled "_Impedimenta!"_

Lucius was sent flying backwards into the sofa he'd been sitting on, which promptly collapsed on top of him. This gave Rosier the opportunity to struggle to his feet and push the sofa off his rival, ignoring the fact that his small intestine had wound itself around his throat and was now attempting to strangle him. "_Diffindo!" _cried his decidedly disorientated opponent, whirling his wand vaguely at the only part of Rosier he could reach, his knees. Rosier gave a gurgling laugh that turned into a scream as there was a loud crack and twin slashes appeared on his shins. With a thrill of horror and a strange, giddy excitement, Bella realised Lucius had actually broken both his legs below the knee. Rosier lost his balance and fell on his back with a resounding crash that shook the bookshelves around them. Lucius slammed into him and spat out a tooth as Rosier's roundhouse punch smacked into his jaw. His grey eyes glittering with malice, Lucius rammed his wand into his rival's throat, straight through the glistening cords of innards still trying to throttle him. Flushed with triumph, he wiped the blood from his own face and opened his mouth -

"_Stop."_

Bella gasped. Lucius fell over in shock. Rosier simply gave a suicidal-sounding groan and went limp.

The Dark Lord stood in the doorway.

**A/N : Is it twisted to say that that was so much fun to write? Because I am sitting here laughing my head off. Nothing like a good fight to spice things up a bit! Let me know if you liked it, as always. **


	14. One Step Closer

**A/N : This chapter is Bella's POV again. Firstly, because Lucius is in a bit of a state (teehee) and secondly because he leaves quite early on anyway. **

**One Step Closer**

Bellatrix gasped. The Dark Lord stood in the doorway, his expression difficult to read. How long had he been standing there? How much had he seen? It suddenly occurred to her that he might be angry with her, that he might have expected her to intervene in the fight. After all, it had been about _her. _

"Stand up," he said coldly. This wasn't a problem for Bella, who was standing anyway, but it took Lucius considerably longer to struggle to his feet, and Rosier didn't even try to. He simply moaned weakly and twitched a little, his face rapidly changing colour as he ran out of air. The Dark Lord watched him for a moment, his foot tapping impatiently. When it became clear that Rosier didn't intend to obey his instruction, he flicked his wand at his neck, slicing straight through the offensive intestines. Rosier sat bolt upright, clutching his stomach, and choked in horror at the sight of his intestines lying in a bloody heap a foot away, as completely removed from his body as it was possible to be. A moment later he screamed as the bones of his legs melted together again with a hissing sound. At last he staggered upright, leaning heavily on the sofa .

"Explain yourselves."

"It was Rosier's fault," Lucius muttered.

"Is that so."

"It was, master," Lucius wheezed. "He had some . . . ridiculous . . _objection_ . . to Bellatrix's presence, and he attacked me. It was purely self defense. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Rosier?"

The question was aimed at Rosier, who nodded. Apparently he had not yet regained the power of speech.

"I see," their master said, nodding thoughtfully. "Lucius, come here."

Bellatrix saw Lucius flinch as their master pointed his wand at him, but a moment later he relaxed. He was being healed.

"Amycus and Dolohov are waiting for you in the hall. Go."

She saw surprise flit briefly across his face, and then he was all gratitude. "Of course, master. Thank you, my lord." He bowed quickly and hurried away.

"Rosier?" the Dark Lord said again.

"Y-yes, my l-lord?"

"_Crucio!"_

Rosier collapsed again, screaming.

"Tell me, Rosier, what is your objection to Miss Black?"

Rosier shook his head, mute.

"_Crucio!"_

More screams.

"I repeat -"

"She's a girl!" Rosier blurted. "She doesn't belong here!"

"She is not the only female follower, and even if she were, her sex is hardly relevant."

"She . . she's my cousin! And . . and she doesn't have what it takes, I know she doesn't!"

"_Crucio! _Now, Rosier . . I care nothing for your opinions. I hope you understand that. I care even less for the fact that you are questioning your master's decisions."

Horrified understanding dawned on Rosier's white face. "N-no, master, I didn't, I wouldn't! Please, master . ."

"Silence. I think it's time, Rosier, that you were given a little lesson in humility. _Crucio! Crucio!"_

Bella watched as her cousin became a twisting, flailing heap on the floor. The sound of his screams didn't bother her. Rosier had tried to destroy everything, and for that he deserved every bit of pain coming his way. While her master tortured Rosier, Bella moved quietly about the room, picking up fallen books and returning them to their shelves. She had to use her cloak to wipe blood from some of them. It irked her that she couldn't use magic, but it was probably safer not to. When she was done she sat down on the sofa.

"_Enervate."_

Rosier's eyes opened agonizingly slowly. "M-master," he choked. "I'm . . . sorry-"

"Go to St Mungo's. Explain your injuries however you see fit. Do not arouse suspicion," their master said, talking over Rosier's apology. "Go."

Her cousin nodded and crawled from the room.

"Bellatrix?"

"Here, my lord."

Bella approached him slowly. She felt she was beginning to understand this game. Rosier had questioned their master's authority, and been punished for it. And Lucius . . Lucius had won the duel, and been rewarded for it. She wished she knew what would happen to her.

"Sit."

Bellatrix obeyed, dropping into Lucius' vacated seat.

"Explain."

"I . ." Bellatrix opened her mouth, and shut it again. What was she supposed to say? What did he want her to say? There was only one thing she was sure of – hesitation was not her friend. It certainly hadn't been Rosier's.

"Well . . .Lucius was telling the truth, my lord. Rosier provoked him, because he wasn't happy about me being here."

"So you believe Lucius' behaviour was purely self-defense?"

"Yes. No, wait a minute. I mean . . no."

Her master raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Well, he was enjoying himself. He probably would have killed Rosier if they'd gone on much longer."

"I see. And you didn't think to intervene?"

Bella felt herself blush. "No. Honestly, I was . . .well I was enjoying it too."

"Would you have enjoyed it if Lucius had killed your cousin?"

Bella gave a contemptuous snort. "Rosier's not really my favourite person, my lord. I mean, I could probably summon up an appropriately trite expression for his funeral, but I'm not sure I'd lose much sleep over it."

Silence. She waited for more questions, but there didn't seem to be any forthcoming. Her master simply sat watching her, wearing the same mildly curious expression she had seen after her first torturing. After a while, Bella found herself talking just to fill in the silence.

"You see, he's . . . ugh, it's embarrassing really. He's . . . _in love_ with me. I mean, I don't even know why. I've certainly never encouraged him."

"Really?"

"No! I've never _seriously . . ._" Bella trailed off. Her master was still watching her, wearing an amused, ironic smile. Suddenly, Lucius' voice echoed inside her head. _Never lie to the Dark Lord, because he always knows . . . _She sighed. "I suppose that's not true. I string him along sometimes, if there's something in it for me. Or if I just want to punish him. But that's different. That's not really encouragement, because he knows I would never really do anything with him. And he knows, deep down, that he's wrong for wanting me to. So, I suppose . . . what I really like is knowing I have some sort of power over him. Knowing he has a weakness, and I can manipulate it . . ."

Abruptly, she realized something. This was just another game. He had probably been watching the fight. He probably knew everything, he just wanted to hear them all say it. A test . . . of their truthfullness. So he said as little as possible, and let them talk and talk . . . and hang themselves with words. "It's all a game . ." Bella whispered, shocked.

Her master's smile widened. "Yes," he said softly.

"Oh." She could think of nothing further to add.

"Although I would prefer the term strategy. Now . . you wished for a book?"

Bella nodded mutely.

"Very well." He flicked his wand again and three books shot from the shelves and fell gracefully into her lap. "You should find those a good starting point. I will test you on what you have learned in a few weeks. Now, on to a more important question. When will this Trace of yours be removed?"

Bellatrix winced. "November," she admitted.

"November?" he repeated.

She nodded. "I'm sixteen. I was ten when I first started Hogwarts. My mother twisted Dumbledore's arm, told him I was already stealing my sister's textbooks and using her wand. She said she wouldn't be able to control me for much longer and that a few months wouldn't make much difference."

"And he believed her?"

Bella shook her head. "No. He believed me, when I told him I was lonely, and said I didn't have any friends. He believed me, when I said that sometimes I got so bored that I liked to hurt things – my cousins, or my sister's pets – just for something to do, and to feel like I wasn't stuck in a dream. He made me promise to stop. And he let me come to Hogwarts. That was our deal."

"And what of following Lord Voldemort?"

Bella smiled. "It wasn't a factor in the deal."

Her master chuckled. "Tell me, did you have any intention of honouring your agreement with Dumbledore?"

Bella shrugged. "I got what I wanted. And I did leave the cat alone. For a while."

Her master actually laughed out loud at that.


	15. Talk

**A/N : This week's title is from the song 'Talk' by Coldplay. Which I do not own, obviously, same as the rest of the Potterverse. Reviews?**

**Talk**

Narcissa didn't know when it began, exactly. At first, she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. And then, as the weeks dragged by, she started to think that her sister had changed, in ways she almost couldn't define. Bellatrix had always been short-tempered, for one thing, but lately it gotten out of hand. She seemed permanently tense, and would snap over the smallest things. And then, a few days or sometimes even a few hours later, she would be inexplicably cheerful and buoyant again, with no reason behind the change that Narcissa could see. Another strange thing was Lucius Malfoy. All of a sudden, he seemed to tail her sister everywhere. Even more strange was the fact that she didn't seem to mind. Narcissa wasn't stupid. She'd heard some of the rumours, of course, but watching the two of them together, she didn't think they could possibly be true. Bella quite frequently ignored Lucius, as if he were little more than background noise. And Lucius often looked downright nervous around her. Cissy didn't know much about relationships, but she still didn't think those were normal responses to have. In addition to all that, she had caught Bella loitering by the common room notice board more than once, obsessively checking the dates of Hogsmeade visits. Since when did Bella care about Hogsmeade visits? A suspicion was growing in Narcissa's mind, and she could only hope that she was wrong.

It was breakfast time on Monday morning when Narcissa made her first attempt to broach the subject. She sat down beside Bellatrix, who was reading the _Daily Prophet, _turning the pages and smirking in between sips of black coffee.

"Hi, Bella."

"Mmm." Her sister didn't look up, but she didn't tell her to go away either. Narcissa took this as a good sign. She put a slice of toast on her plate and began spreading butter onto it, to give herself something to do with her hands.

"Bella . . ." she began hesitantly, taking a deep breath. But she didn't get any further, because Lucius Malfoy chose that moment to drop into the seat opposite her sister. His clothes were rather crumpled-looking and there were shadows underneath his eyes. "Morning, Bellatrix," he yawned.

Her sister actually looked up briefly at that. She wasn't the only one. Halfway along the table a curly-haired, shrewish blonde girl looked up too. Rita Skeeter. Narcissa swallowed nervously, twisting her fingers in her lap. She didn't like Skeeter. Bellatrix, on the other hand, didn't seem bothered. "Morning, Lucius," she said flippantly.

"Pass the coffee, will you?" Lucius asked, pulling a slice of toast out of the rack. Bellatrix ignored this. Turning pink, Narcissa pushed the coffee pot tentatively towards him. He picked it up with a perplexed expression. "Funny," he muttered. "I could have sworn it was further away . . ." Narcissa sank a little further into her seat, so that she was level with the headline on Bellatrix's newspaper, "MINISTER CALLS FOR CALM AS ATTACKS ON MUGGLE POPULACE CONTINUE". She jumped as she heard a catty, spiteful voice. "Reading the newspaper? Gosh, how boring, Bellatrix. Let me guess – your heart bleeds for the Muggles? Or are you just hoping to catch a mention of your sister in there?"

The old Bellatrix would have gone for Skeeter's throat, Narcissa was sure. Today, however, she didn't rise to it. "Oh, Rita," she said sweetly, "no-one expects you to understand culture. We know anything more complex than _Witch Weekly _goes right over your head."

Skeeter scowled, her fingers tightening on her glass of pumpkin juice. Apparently, however, she couldn't think of a snappy enough retort, so she settled for swallowing some more juice, a sour expression on her face.

"So Lucius," Bellatrix continued, a strangely vicious smile on her lips, "How's your father?"

Lucius smirked. "Spectacular," he said. "As you well know."

Skeeter choked, spraying pumpkin juice halfway across the table. Narcissa blinked. She didn't see what was so awful about a simple question. Neither did Lucius, apparently. He gave Skeeter a very funny look as she hurried away. Bella, meanwhile, was smirking more widely than ever, and looked as if she might laugh at any moment. Narcissa still didn't get the joke. While she was attempting to puzzle it out, Bellatrix got to her feet. "Here. A bit of breakfast reading," she said, dropping the paper by Lucius' plate. "See you later." She was long gone by the time Narcissa remembered her original purpose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was Thursday afternoon before she dared to try again. Crossing the courtyard after a particularly disastrous Herbology lesson, in which kindly Professor Sprout had actually _snapped _at her, she spotted her sister sitting on the steps, immersed in a book. She hesitated. She had earth smeared across one cheek and an angry, throbbing red weal on one wrist, where the baby Venemous Tentacula had bitten her. Luckily its teeth weren't poisonous yet. _Still, _Narcissa thought bitterly, _I didn't know that. _Just as she hadn't known that hitting it with her pruning shears would _kill _it. Now probably wasn't the best time to confront her sister, when she was angry and annoyed and half on the verge of tears. Bellatrix was bound to get the upper hand. Still, what choice did she have? Bella was always so busy. Narcissa hardly ever saw her anymore, and getting her on her own was a feat akin to breaking into Gringotts bank.

"B-Bella? Can we talk?"

Her sister scowled. "I'm in the middle of something, Cissy. Can't it wait?"

"Not really . . ."

Bellatrix sighed. "Five minutes," she said, snapping the book shut and turning it over so that Narcissa couldn't see the title. "Spit it out."

Cissy flinched. Why did her sister have to make even closing a book seem like a threatening action?

"Well? What is it? Don't tell me you've run out of diseases to feign."

"No. It's just, um . . . well, you know there's rumours about you, right? About . . . you and Lucius Malfoy?"

For a moment her sister actually seemed half interested. "What sort of rumours?"

"Well . . .you know. That the two of you are . . going out. Together."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Is that all? You make it sound like we're plotting murder."

Narcissa frowned. "So it's true?"

"Does it matter?"

When Narcissa didn't answer, she sighed. "Fine. It's not. Happy now?"

"Not really. If it's not him . . then why _are _you acting so strangely?" Narcissa couldn't believe she was actually being so bold, and one look at her sister's expression told her it had been the wrong thing to do.

"I don't know what you mean," Bellatrix said coldly. "I'm not acting strangely. And I think I've had enough of this conversation." She stood up, shoving the book hastily into her bag. "Goodbye."

"Bella, no! That's not what I meant! Just . . .wait! Please!"

Her sister ignored her.

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Sunday morning found Narcissa sitting alone at the Slytherin table, loading her spoon with porridge and letting it fall listlessly back into the bowl.

"Ah, Miss Black!"

Narcissa jumped. Professor Slughorn was standing over her, smiling cheerfully. "Good morning, Professor," she said swiftly.

"A very good morning to you as well. No need to be alarmed, m'dear. I was just wondering if you could pass along a message to your sister for me?"

When Narcissa nodded obligingly he continued, "Just ask her when I'm going to see that Potions essay of mine, will you? It's two days overdue as it is, you know, I really can't let it go any longer."

_An overdue Potions essay? _So now her sister might be falling behind on schoolwork too. As Slughorn ambled away, Narcissa crammed a quick mouthful of porridge into her mouth, just in case anyone was watching. It was stone cold. The truth was, Narcissa had decided she didn't like food much. At home, she ate as little as possible, anxious to be away from the spectre of Andromeda's empty chair. And at Hogwarts . . . well there was just so much to eat it was faintly sickening. Bella sometimes commented on the fact that she was getting skinny, but mostly she just didn't seem to notice. And her parents . . . well her mother had always thought of Cissy as her little girl. She didn't ever want her grow up, Cissy felt sure of that. She wanted her to be like a porceline doll, small and pretty and perfect forever. Suddenly full, Narcissa pushed the bowl away from her and got to her feet.

As she wandered through the castle, her thoughts returned, again, to her sister. There was just something not right about Bellatrix lately, and no-one else even seemed to notice. Her worst fear, she realized, was that her sister had a boyfriend. Because if she had to keep him secret, and only see him during Hogsmeade visits . . then something was wrong. She knew, of course, that Bella would never touch a Muggle, or anything like that. But that still didn't mean . . .

Narcissa bit her lip. At times like these, she wished she had someone who _understood. _Someone who knew Bella, and actually might care about her too . . .She resolutely avoided thinking of her. But somehow, the name 'Andromeda' floated up anyway. Scowling, Narcissa kicked out at the closest thing to her, which turned out to be a statue . She yelped in pain while the ugly, one-eyed stone crone stared down at her. Why couldn't she be more like Bella? Why couldn't she be strong and confident and just not care? Narcissa didn't know.

And then she saw him. Dark-haired, with laughing grey eyes and a handsome face that all the girls in her dormitory swooned over, even though he was a Gryffindor. Her cousin, Sirius Black.

"Sirius!"

He jumped at the sound of his name. For one mad moment she thought he was going to ignore her. But that was ridiculous. Why would he do that?

"Hey, Narcissa," he said, a little defensively. "Er . . . what do you want?"

"Nothing really . .. I just thought maybe we could talk."

"We never talk."

Narcissa frowned. Why was he being so cold? They did talk, didn't they? True, they talked a lot _less _ now that he was in Gryffindor, but that wasn't her fault.

"We do talk," she said. When Sirius only raised an eyebrow, she realized she was going to have to compromise. "Okay," she admitted. "Maybe we don't talk as much as we should. But that's not my fault. I mean, you got put in Gryffindor. And I've had problems too, you know."

Sirius' hard expression softened a little. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Narcissa stared at her shoes. "Well . . . you know." When his only response was a blank look, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't believe he was actually making her _say _it. "Andromeda," she muttered.

To her shock, this didn't get the response she was hoping for. If anything, her cousin's expression only grew harder. "You're not still going on about that are you?" he said coldly.

Before Narcissa could respond, another boy came careening around the corner. This one had messy black hair and glasses. Narcissa recognized him as a pureblood, but the wrong kind. He was holding a small glass sphere aloft, dangling it just out of reach, as a smaller, plumper boy tried to snatch it back. "Haha, come on, Peter! You can do better than that!" The other boy jumped a little higher, pan ting in desperation, as a third boy rounded the corner.

"James! Come on, give it back! What if you break it?"

Narcissa thought the third, more shabbily dressed boy had a point. Judging by the copious amounts of Spellotape wrapped around his glasses, the first boy still hadn't mastered _'Reparo'. _

"Oh give over Remus! It's only a joke! Peter can take a joke, can't you Peter?"

"Y-yes, of course . . ." Peter said squeakily. "It's just that . . . my Remembrall, James! My mother said . . ."

"Oh, who cares? Your mother's not here _now, _Peter! And she'll never know anyway."

Cissy thought she heard the smallest boy mutter something that sounded like, "She'll know if you _break _it."

His companion cocked his head. "What was that? Didn't catch that!"

"Nothing, nothing!" Peter cried quickly. "Just a game, of course! Just a game, it's all fun . . ."

The boy named Remus had hurried over to them. "Sirius, please. Do something, you know he listens to you. And you know how he gets – he'll do this for _hours _if someone doesn't intervene."

Narcissa glared at him. This was ridiculous. She was fed up, and for once she wasn't going to put up with it. Honestly – she understood that in a house like Gryffindor, Sirius probably had to take friends where he could find them. But there was no reason for him to waste time with these idiots when he had someone better to talk to.

"Excuse me," she said frostily, in her best impression of Bellatrix. "We're _talking." _

The boy stared at her, apparently embarrassed. "Oh. Sorry, Sirius. I didn't realize you were busy. So . . er . . who's this, exactly?"

Narcissa upped the ante on her death glare, and waited for Sirius to tell these morons that he was having a conversation with _family, _actually, and order them to go somewhere else. Sirius glanced at her.

"Who, her?" he said. "Oh . . she's no-one."

Narcissa's mouth fell open. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. She stood, frozen in place, and watched as her cousin strode nonchalantly past her. "Hey, James," he shouted, "are you gonna give that to me or what?"

"Sure! Catch!"

"Alright! Now come on, Peter – I _know _you can do better than that!"

**A/N : Ah, poor Cissy. Hope that wasn't TOO angsty. Lol. Bellatrix's joke, by the way, is a pretty awful one. It hinges around the expression 'a bit of how's your father' which is a euphemism for a bit of, um, naughtiness . Basically, Lucius thinks Bella's asking about his cover story for what he did last night (in her paper). Narcissa thinks she's asking an actual question about Abraxas. Rita's mind, of course, has jumped straight to the seedy euphemism, as Bella knew it would. Lucius' response therefore, tipped her over the edge. An awful bit of innuendo. I' m not sure if it's a purely British expression, so I thought I'd explain, just in case . And I am just NOT recovering, so sorry if any typos found their way in there. **


	16. Lonely

**A/ N : Just a quick chapter I knocked out today because I was feeling in a Snapey mood. (I'm sure there is such a thing.) I have the next few chapters planned out but not written yet because I just can't seem to shake off this sickness, and I'd hate to churn out something sub-par just for the sake of it. So be patient with me, please! Anyway, this chapter is dedicated two ways – to Expecting Rain, who is also feeling in a Snapey mood, apparently, and for Mrs Bella Riddle, my latest lovely reviewer. **

**Lonely**

Narcissa was slumped against the wall in an empty corridor, crying, when a shadow fell across her face. She blinked as a pair of scuffed shoes swam into her line of vision. "Sorry," their owner muttered. "I need to go in there." Narcissa stared at him in confusion. He was a boy the same age as her cousin, but not half so handsome. In fact, this boy had a stringy, unhealthy look, like a plant kept in the dark. His black hair was chin length and greasy looking, and he had sallow skin.

"S-sorry?"

"The door," the boy said impatiently. "You're blocking it."

"Oh."

Narcissa hadn't realized she was leaning against a door. She sniffed. "Go away," she said thickly. "Come back later."

"You could just move," the boy said rudely. "You're the one in the way."

Wiping her eyes, Narcissa took a good look at the boy who dared to be so rude to her. His robes were shabby and second-hand, but the badge of Slytherin was clearly visible, stitched onto his cloak. This made Narcissa feel a little better. He was familiar, she realized.

"I know who you are," she said suddenly, pleased with herself for remembering. "You're that Snape boy. You're in my year. Something Snape."

"_Severus _Snape," the boy said, but he sounded a tiny bit more polite as he continued with, "And I know who you are. Obviously. You're Narcissa Black."

Narcissa shrugged. Then she remembered something else. "_You're_ a half-blood," she said thoughtlessly. A shadow crossed the boy's face. "So?" he said angrily. "It's not like I _chose_ to be."

"Sorry," Narcissa mumbled. It was the first time she had ever apologized to a half-blood.

"Are you going to move then?" the boy asked. He was beginning to sound impatient again. Narcissa shook her head. There was a brief silence, during which they simply stared at each other, and then the boy made an irritated sound that was a bit like a sigh. "What are you crying for anyway?" he asked, wincing slightly as he did so, as though crying might be contagious. Narcissa sniffed again.

"My stupid cousin," she explained. "He's horrible."

"Sirius Black?" the boy asked, looking genuinely interested now. "Yeah, him and his friends are morons. Especially Potter. They're total-" here Snape called Sirius and his friends a word that made Narcissa giggle, even though she'd never heard it before. Snape looked as though he might smile at that. "I don't know why you'd _want _to hang out with him."

Narcissa avoided his eye, fiddling unconsciously with the end of her plait. "I just wanted someone to talk to," she mumbled. She could feel tears constricting her throat already.

"So you chose _family?" _Snape gave a contemptuous snort. "You can't trust _family _to make you happy," he said derisively, with the air of one explaining to a small child that, no, the moon isn't _actually_ made of cheese.

"Well I don't have anyone else," Narcissa said defensively, though a blocked nose made this statement sound pathetic, even to her ears. Snape shrugged.

"I need to get my book," he said awkwardly.

Narcissa nodded miserably and stepped aside. He disappeared into the classroom. A moment later, however, he emerged, clutching a battered, dirty looking book. She was surprised when he fell into step beside her.

"You know," he said hesitantly, "there are some pretty good hexes in here. I'm planning on using some of them on that idiot cousin of yours. If you want . . . I could lend you it. Just for a while. If you want."

Narcissa hesitated. She thought about telling Snape that she was actually pretty useless at hexes, and that she probably wouldn't ever have the guts to hex her own cousin. She thought about how dirty the book, which almost certainly wasn't a textbook, looked, and about all the horrible pictures that might be lurking inside it – things her mother would throw a fit over, if she knew Cissy was looking at them. And then she thought about Sirius, and Bella, and Andromeda, and most of all about how _angry _she felt, right now. She didn't voice any of these thoughts to Snape. Instead, she smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "That would be really, um . . . nice."

After a moment, he smiled back. Just a tiny smile. But after that, somehow, Narcissa found that she had a friend. It started with friendly looks when they passed each other in the corridor, and knowing ones when they passed Sirius and his friends. Then Narcissa asked him to pass her a set of scales in Potions. A little while after that, he asked her to partner him in Herbology.

"It's for your sake, really," he explained, heaping compost onto some Shrivelfigs. "Because you're rubbish at everything, let's face it. _Someone _has to help you."

Narcissa opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. She had learnt that Snape got uncomfortable when she was too nice. So she was trying not to be. Which meant that her usual response to this statement, an embarrassed silence, wouldn't do. Neither would thanking him for helping her. She took a deep breath, smoothing the surface of the compost with her trowel.

"Sure," she said, trying to sound cool and offhand, the way everyone else in Slytherin seemed to. "I bet this has _nothing_ to do with the fact that Mulciber and Avery always partner each other anyway."

Snape shrugged. "Total coincidence," he said, grinning a little as he tipped the watering can over her shoes. Narcissa shrieked and kicked him reflexively in the shins. He only rolled his eyes. Narcissa giggled. Somehow, this whole childish exchange made her feel . . . . happy. Thankfully Professor Sprout chose that exact moment to dismiss the class, giving Narcissa a chance to compose herself. Not that she needed it, as the sight of the second year Gryffindors filing into Greenhouse Two had a sobering effect on both of them. Sirius scowled when he saw who she was talking to, and turned away quickly. Snape, meanwhile, was wearing a very ugly expression, glaring at her cousin and his friend and gripping his wand much too tightly to be ignored. Clearly something had happened that morning that she didn't know about. Narcissa tugged him away before he had a chance to do anything but he was quiet and distracted all the way up to the castle. As they crossed the courtyard, however, he broke his silence unexpectedly.

"Why do you wear those things?" he asked abruptly.

Narcissa hesitated, confused. "What things?"

"Those things," Snape said, gesturing towards the ribbon in her hair. Narcissa looked down, and realized, with a jolt of surprise, that she was fiddling with the ribbon again. She twisted the silk, pulling the plait tight.

"I don't know," she said a little defensively. "Why? What's wrong with them?"

Snape shrugged. "They make you look about five, that's all."

"They do?" She had never thought about it like that before. He nodded.

"Yeah. And you have to fix them every five minutes. It's annoying."

Narcissa opened her mouth, about to admit that actually, the ribbon never needed to be _fixed. _She fiddled with it to make herself feel better, when she was nervous. But then she shut her mouth, and simply nodded. As Snape hurried off somewhere else, still looking bad-tempered, she took a deep breath and yanked the ribbon out, watching the plait unfurl. She felt . . . different . . . without it. Still, that might not be a bad thing. Different might be good.

The staircases of Hogwarts clearly agreed with this maxim. Hurrying back from the library that afternoon, Narcissa tripped unexpectedly over a trick step she was sure had never been there before. Both she and the books she was carrying went flying. She yelped in fright as she tumbled down the steps, and then someone grabbed her waist, stopping her fall. Grateful, Narcissa looked up to thank them. And yelped again. Of all the people to have saved her from her own clumsiness, why oh _why _did fate have to choose Lucius Malfoy?

"You should be more careful," he said, as he set her on her feet.

Narcissa nodded, turning bright pink. She honestly thought she might fall down again. _Why did it have to be him? _If Rita Skeeter made her nervous, Lucius Malfoy rendered her speechless, for entirely different reasons. He scrambled her thoughts more effectively than any Confundus Charm. And he normally never even noticed her existence. It took her a moment to realize that he was talking again.

"Have you seen your sister?" he asked.

"Who?"

Lucius gave her a funny look. "Your _sister," _he repeated. "Bellatrix."

"Oh." Narcissa had completely forgotten about her sister, but clearly Lucius hadn't. No-one ever forgot about Bella. Not for long.

"No. I don't know where she is."

"Alright." Lucius sighed. As he turned to leave, he glanced back briefly. "You know," he said, a frown creasing his forehead, "you look different today." And then he was gone.

Narcissa stared after him. She felt feather-light, as if her shoes were full of bubbles. She seized her satchel and squeezed it tightly, as if the weight of the books inside might stop her from floating away. And then she turned on her heel and almost ran to the common room. She didn't care if he didn't like it. She was going to hug Snape.


	17. Monster

**Monster**

It was growing dark by the time Lucius found Bellatrix. He ran into her, quite literally, as she emerged from the prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor. She had her jumper knotted carelessly around her waist and a washbag swinging from her wrist. Her hair was still wet and the first few buttons of her shirt were undone, a fact that Lucius found rather distracting.

"Hello, Lucius," she said in a bored tone, pulling her tie into a loose knot and running her fingers through her hair. "Any news?"

"Any . . any news?" Lucius repeated in disbelief. "_Any news? _I've been looking for you all afternoon! Where have you _been?"_

Bellatrix shrugged. "Taking a bath," she said, with the air of one pointing out the obvious. "There wasn't much else to do." She froze, her fingers slipping on her tie, and looked up sharply. "You _told _me there wasn't much else to do."

Lucius winced at her accusatory tone of voice. "There's been a . . change of plans," he said carefully.

"A change of plans?" she said slowly. "Meaning what exactly?"

Lucius swallowed and felt for his wand in his pocket. "Meaning we now have plans."

Bellatrix stared. "It's past six'o'clock," she said, panicked. "How are we going to get out?"

Lucius hesitated. "There is another way out," he said at last. "But Filch knows about it, so I'm not sure how safe it is."

Bellatrix's reaction, by now, was predictable. "I don't care. Let's go." She dropped the washbag carelessly in the corridor and seized Lucius' arm. "Which way?" she demanded, dragging him down the corridor.

"_This _way," Lucius said stiffly, deciding it was about time he took control of the situation. He turned sharply and steered them downwards, towards the third floor. He had learnt that when Bellatrix got worked up about something, she tended to drag anyone unfortunate enough to be in the surrounding area along with her as collateral damage. He stopped her in front of a full-length mirror , the silver frame of which was tarnished, and twisted to resemble vines of ivy. Thankfully, there was no sign of Filch, or that foul cat of his. "_Dissendium," _he muttered, pointing his wand very precisely at the centre of the mirror. For a long moment, nothing happened. Bellatrix crossed her arms and glanced nervously up and down the corridor. Then, at last, the surface of the glass turned black, rippled . . . and disappeared. They stepped through it and found themselves in a roomy passage on the other side, which stretched away into darkness. Behind them, the entrance to the passage seemed to ice over – the glass had reappeared. "_Lumos," _Lucius said. "Come on."

The walk was a long one, and mostly silent. Lucius had the distinct impression Bellatrix was annoyed with him, and he had no desire to antagonize her. Avoiding the shops, or, more accurately, the inquisitive shopkeepers inside them, added more time to the journey, and by the time they approached their usual apparition point, Lucius' feet were aching.

"_Dolohov's _here?"

Bellatrix's voice jolted Lucius back to reality. She was scowling at him. An irritated voice sounded behind her.

"Say it a bit louder, why don't you? There might be a few people in Hogsmeade who didn't hear you."

Dolohov was sitting on a large boulder beside the turnstile, smoking a cigarette and looking distinctly unimpressed. "What took you so long?" he added, groaning as he hauled himself to his feet. "I've been sat here two hours. I was just about to tell him you weren't coming."

"Sorry, Dolohov." Bellatrix surprised Lucius by apologizing. "I was taking a bath. Lucius was being an idiot."

Lucuis opened his mouth to protest at this version of events, but Dolohov waved a hand dismissively. "You know what?" he said. "I changed my mind. I don't actually _want_ to know what the pair of you were doing together."

Bellatrix surprised him yet again by smothering the obvious irritation that flashed across her face. Instead, she nodded and made to remove her tie, to blindfold herself. But Dolohov stopped her. "It's not necessary," he said. "Come on." There was a loud crack as he seized her elbow and disapparated. Lucius quickly followed suite, reappearing on a familiar London street.

"What does he want us for?" he asked.

Dolohov merely shrugged. "Search me," he said. "He just ordered me to get you, and he was _very _insistant about her. She _had _to come too, apparently."

He lead them up the steps and herded them inside. "In there," he said, pointing at the first door. Lucius had just reached for the doorknob when another voice sounded behind him, this one coldly amused.

"Stop, Lucius."

Lucius jumped. His master had a disconcerting ability to appear seemingly out of thin air. He was standing behind them now, watching them closely. _How long had he been there? _Lucius shook his head to dispell the unwarranted paranoia.

"I'm sorry we're late, master," he began. "It took me longer than I thought it would to find Bellatrix."

"It matters not," their master said impatiently. "You are here now. Dolohov, you may go. Now," he continued, "One moment." He stared at them for a minute, his gaze lingering briefly on Bellatrix's wet hair. "Come here," he said at last. She moved closer, her nervousness betrayed by the pink flush in her cheeks, a colour which only intensified as her master reached forwards and deftly removed her school tie, apparently oblivious to the stares of Lucius and the discomfort of Dolohov, who quickly turned and hurried away.

Lucius had to pull Bellatrix into the room after him. She wearing an oddly glazed expression, and for one brief moment he had the distinct impression she had forgotten to breathe. Lucius didn't blame her. The Dark Lord's hands on your throat could hardly be a pleasant experience.

The first thing Lucius noticed was how hot it was in here. He could feel the starch in his collar wilting, and Bellatrix's still-damp hair was curling in the sudden heat. He unfastened his cloak and ran a hand over his forehead. Bellatrix pulled her jumper from around her waist and dumped it on a nearby chair, rolling up her sleeves.

There was a table in the middle of the room with a number of items on top of it. The first was an old cloak. On top of this rested several rat skeletons and . . a snake. It was two, maybe three feet long and as thick as his forearm, with vivid, poisonous green skin. For some reason, their master had blindfolded it with Bellatrix's tie. As Lucius watched, the tip of its forked crimson tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and the snake hissed. Lucius took an automatic step backwards. At the same time, Bellatrix took a step forwards.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. And before anyone could stop her, she put out a hand to touch it. Lucius opened his mouth to shout out a warning, but no sound emerged. He turned to see his master leaning against a nearby bookcase, his wand pointing languidly at Lucius' chest. Helpless, Lucius could only look on uselessly as Bellatrix's fingers made contact with the creature's skin. It tensed immediately and hissed angrily, but she paid it no heed. Instead, she started to _stroke _it. He watched, dumbstruck, as it began to wind its way up her arm, coiling higher and higher until . . . It came to a slow, swaying stop, its head level with her neck. Lucius shouted another pointless, silent warning. The snake's tongue came out again, flicking against the side of Bellatrix's neck this time. Lucius shuddered. Bellatrix _giggled. _

Lucius couldn't help himself. He stared. What the hell was wrong with her? _This wasn't normal behaviour! _The abnormal behaviour, however, looked set to continue, because at that moment, their master spoke. Only, he didn't use any language Lucius had ever heard. What emerged was a strange hissing sound that sent shivers down his spine. The snake froze, millimetres from Bellatrix's throat. Then it withdrew, settling instead for twining itself around her neck in some bizarre parody of a necklace.

"You can speak to snakes?!" Lucius yelped. The words had emerged automatically. Apparently his master had given him his voice back. "I meant . . . ahem. You're a Parselmouth, master?"

His master laughed. "Yes, Lucius. I am a Parselmouth," he confirmed.

"What did you say to it, master?" Bellatrix asked curiously.

Their master smiled unpleasantly. "I ordered it not to harm you," he said carelessly.

There was a long silence, in which Lucius attempted to digest the strangeness of the situation. Bellatrix simply stayed where she was, tracing a forefinger along the serpent's spine as it coiled and uncoiled on her arm, apparently thoroughly enjoying herself. Their master leant against the bookcase, twirling his wand idly between thin white fingers and watching Bellatrix with a curiously _hungry _expression on his face. It made Lucius uncomfortable, though he couldn't think why. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Master," he said awkwardly, "What _is _it?"

When the Dark Lord didn't respond, Lucius cleared his throat. Quietly. "M-master?" he said nervously. Irritation flashed across his master's features.

"I heard you, Lucius," he said dangerously. Lucius braced himself for his master's ire, but it never arrived. His forehead cleared, and then he was smiling again. Lucius swallowed. His master's smile had never done much to put people at ease. In fact, it usually had the opposite effect. There was something faintly vampiric about it.

"I was wondering which of you could identify the creature, actually. Lucius?"

"Er . . ." Lucius stared at it, trying to see anything other than a snake. He had learnt long ago that simple questions from his master rarely had simple answers. Finally, he gave up. "A snake, master. I think it's a snake."

"Not exactly, Lucius. Bella?"

Lucius froze. _Bella? _What had happened to the last half of her name? When did Bellatrix become 'Bella'? Mercifully, his master had transferred his attentions to _Bella _and therefore missed Lucius' stunned expression.

Bellatrix blinked, the expression on her face akin to that of a person coming out of a trance. "_I _know what it is," she said quietly. "It's a Basilisk."

**A/N : Cliffy, I know! Hope you liked it! Reviews? xxx**


	18. What I Go To School For

**A / N : For Laila this time, my latest reviewer! I love getting reviews. You can probably tell. They make me smile like a loon. Anyway! Enjoy! **

**What I Go To School For**

It might have been the heat that was making Bella's head spin. Then again, it might have been the fact that her master had actually touched her, his fingers cold on her throat as he tilted her neck and pulled off her tie. She could still feel the ghost of that touch now, like the throbbing after-effect of a bruise, or the sting of a cut. At the moment, she was standing with her back to him, absent-mindedly stroking the snake. But still she was acutely aware of the place where he had touched her. She knew it was all in her own head, but in her mind it blazed like a burn, and she was afraid that if she looked round, he would _see, _or Lucius would. What they would see didn't make sense, even to her. But they would see something, Bella was sure of it. Lucius had had to almost drag her into this room, after all, because she hadn't known, for one brief moment, where she was, or what she was doing, and she had forgotten she was supposed to move. If she was brutally honest with herself, Bellatrix wasn't sure she'd even known_ who _she was, in that moment. She had lost all control, in the way she only ever did around her master. He could have ordered her to do anything, and she would have agreed, because when her master was near her, everything else disappeared. He suddenly seemed like the only real thing in the world, and all she wanted was to obey him, to make him happy. Bella let the snake coil up as far as her shoulder, still musing. _Maybe, _she thought, _that's what the Imperius curse feels like. _The serpent's tongue flickered against her neck, against the very spot her master's fingers had been. Suddenly light-headed again, Bella giggled.

And then her master spoke, in a strange, twisted hiss that Bella recognized immediately as Parseltongue. What else could it be? The snake tensed at his voice and gave a low hiss, before relenting and draping itself around her shoulders. The fact that her master was a Parselmouth didn't surprise Bella in the slightest. It seemed only natural, somehow. Her master _would _have this ability. Bella watched the firelight play over the creature's vivid, poisonous green skin while Lucius spluttered incoherently behind her, apparently shocked by this revelation of their master's talents.

"You can speak to snakes?! I meant . . . ahem. You're a Parselmouth, master?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Lucius could be such a fool sometimes. Not that she let him know this. As far as Lucius was concerned, she thought he was a fool _all_ the time. She turned a little, certain that laughing at Lucius would smother any evidence of whatever feeling had been possessing her before. The sight of his blotchy red cheeks did tug one side of her mouth up in a smirk, but then her eyes fell on her master, leaning lightly against a bookcase. He laughed, and her train of thought derailed spectacularly.

"Yes, Lucius. I am a Parselmouth," he confirmed. He was twirling his wand idly between his fingers, and the action was strangely distracting. Bella decided she needed to stop thinking about his fingers.

"What did you say to it, master?" she asked instead, dropping her gaze to the snake once more. The snake, she decided, was safe to look at. Being blindfolded, and non-human, it could hardly notice anything odd in her expression. Besides, the firelight at this angle made its scales sparkle with a pretty, iridescent light. Bellatrix smiled, watching the serpent coil and uncoil on her arm. The action was strangely hypnotic. It calmed her, she thought, tracing a forefinger along the length of its spine. In fact, it calmed her so much that when her master responded with, "I ordered it not to harm you," she didn't turn the flaming, undignified scarlet she expected. She simply smiled again, a very small, tight smile. The snake's skin was cool and rough against her bare forearm and she wondered how it would look if she had a snake tatooed there, black as night. After a moment she realized her masrer was talking again.

"I was wondering which of you could identify the creature, actually. Lucius?"

"Er . . ." Lucius hesitated, clearly clueless.

The snake wound tighter around Bellatrix's neck, pressing its head into the hollow of her jaw. As it did so, Bella heard the the faint rustle of her school tie. Now _that _was odd. Why would their master blindfold a snake? It wasn't as if it put them in any danger, being seen by a snake. Unless, of course, it wasn't really a snake. Well what else could it be? An Animagus? Possible, she supposed, but then again, it didn't make much sense. After all, their master had used her name, and Lucius' , more than once since they arrived. So if it wasn't blindfolded for secrecy's sake . . . it had to be to keep them safe. From what? Its eyes? Would it go mad if it saw them? Would it attack them, suddenly beyond their master's control? Or . . . were its eyes the problem? She had heard the phrase 'if looks could kill' before. And then it hit her. _Of course. _She _knew _what this was, even though she hadn't ever expected to see one in real life. It was out of context, that was why she hadn't picked up on it . . .

"_I _know what it is," she breathed, "It's a Basilisk. I'm right, aren't I, master? It was in that book you gave me . . ."

She knew immediately that she was right. She could see it in his eyes. Her master's lips curved into an approving smile and he nodded, amused. "Yes, Bella," he said softly. "That's _exactly _what it is."

"A- a what? I don't understand, master. What's a . . . Basilisk?" Lucius was looking rather uncomfortable, eying the snake apprehensively. Their master chuckled.

"You don't know, Lucius?" he said mockingly. "Dear me . . there _have _been some gaps in your education, haven't there? I suppose your father had better things to do with his time than tell his son stories . . ."

Lucius reddened. Their master let the moment drag on until it became uncomfortable, and then he gave a cynical laugh.

"No matter," he said at last. "I'm sure Bella here can fill them in for you. Bellatrix?"

"The _Basilisk," _Bella said, pronouncing the creature's name with care, "is the king of serpents. It's a _monster," _she added, smiling unpleasantly. Lucius didn't take another step back, but he looked as though he definitely _wanted _to.

"A . . a monster?" he said, in an unconvincing tone of indifference. "And . . why is it a monster? It doesn't seem very dangerous. I mean, more dangerous than the average snake, my lord."

Bella grinned. This was going to be fun.

"We-ll," she said, "first of all, Basilisks are usually much bigger than this. Something like sixty feet long, aren't they master?"

Her master inclined his head, and Lucius swallowed audibly.

"So," she continued, "I'm guessing this one is newly hatched." She glanced briefly at her master. "You know, I'm still amazed you managed to breed a Basilisk, my lord," she said reverentially. He shrugged.

"It is not difficult, in itself. The reason so few people attempt it is that they cannot control the beast when it hatches. And, of course, the Ministry forbids it. But we are veering off topic. Continue, Bella."

Bella nodded. "Well . . . .where to begin, really?" She thought for a moment, picturing the page in the book. "Basilisks can live for centuries. They have venom in their fangs which can kill in less than a minute. Not that they need it, really."

Lucius was watching the creature coil around her neck. "I'm sorry," said suddenly, "but _why _don't they need the venom? You can't honestly tell me they have a better weapon."

Bella smiled. "Oh, but they do," she said. "You see, the Basilisk can kill with one glance from its eyes. It's amazing."

Lucius stared. "Amazing," he muttered faintly, his eyes trailing the creature as it slithered across her shoulders and began to weave its way down her other arm.

Bella frowned, raising her arm absent-mindedly so it could coil more easily around her wrist. "I still don't understand, though. If . . if I can ask . . ._why _did you breed a Basilisk, master? And why are you showing it to us?"

Her master smiled. Apparently he found their confusion entertaining. "I was wondering when one of you would ask that. Tell me . . . what do you both know about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Bella drew in her breath sharply. Lucius' eyes widened.

"Of course!" Bella cried triumphantly. "You're the Heir of Slytherin, master! And the monster in the Chamber . . .it's a Basilisk! It's so _obvious _now . ."

"Not _too _obvious, I should hope," her master said with a thin smile. "It took me quite some time to be sure of it myself."

Behind her, Lucius was frowning, apparently lost in thought. "They say the Chamber was opened. I'm not sure . . . ten years ago? Maybe more. Before our time, anyway. The rumour is that a Mudblood _died. _But it was all hushed up. They say the culprit was caught, and sent to Azkaban. Is it true?"

Their master laughed. "_A _culprit was caught, and punished. Not me, evidently. Breaking out of Azkaban was a tedium that even then I considered rather beneath me. I have better ways to spend my time. I sealed the Chamber, after that. The time, regrettably, was not right. There was talk of closing the school, and I did not have the neccessary safeguards in place to see that it would be reopened, and set on a more fitting path. Besides, there were other problems. The suspicion of that Muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore, was one of them. The other was the monster itself. Doubtless, the intentions of my noble ancestor were good. A Basilisk, after all, may live for many hundreds of years. Unfortunately, I believe Slytherin did not expect it would take his heirs over a thousand years to avail of his gift. The result, unfortunately, was that by the time I discovered it, the creature was already past its prime. The strain of action, after so many years of dormancy, did it no favours. I realized it would not live much longer. Sooner or later, it would be more prudent to replace it with a younger, less lethargic, beast, one with a greater thirst for human blood." He smiled unpleasantly. "Now, I think you comprehend my purpose?"

Bella nodded slowly. Lucius, meanwhile, was looking faintly horrorstruck.

"M-master," he said weakly, "You can't possibly expect us to smuggle a _monster _into Hogwarts, right under Dumbledore's nose? With all due respect . . . it's impossible. It . . .it just can't be done."

Their master raised an eyebrow. "Impossible? Nothing is _impossible, _Lucius. Clearly you give Dumbledore too much credit. The man is not as omniscient as he would like to appear. And I will assist you, naturally."

Bella scowled. Lucius just had to be an idiot, didn't he? Well, that was fine by her. She'd do this alone if she had to. Her master wanted her to do something for him, and she didn't care how hard it seemed. She was going to do it. She took a deep breath.

"How do we get into the Chamber?" she asked.

Her master smiled. "The Chamber can only be opened by a Parselmouth. It is one of the reasons it has never been found, although the school has been searched many times. Therefore, you will need to be able to speak Parseltongue to enter." Bella opened her mouth, but he waved her questions away. "I can help you in that. Come here."

He pointed his wand at her throat, and uttered a soft, hissing incantation that sounded like no spell Bella had ever heard before. Silver vapour poured out of the tip of his wand, writhing and twisting around her neck like a wreath of smoke. As she watched, it grew suddenly cold and hardened, solidifying into an amulet on a fine silver chain, an amulet in the shape of a pair of serpents, intertwined. Bella wrapped her fingers around it.

"Thank you, master!" she said, but as she said it, the amulet glowed white-hot beneath her hand, and the words changed. Though she knew she had spoken in English, the words which emerged were in that strange, hissing language only her master spoke. Parseltongue. Bella gasped. "Wow!" she cried, dropping the amulet in surprise. As soon it left her fingers, she found herself speaking English again. Lucius stared at her, open-mouthed.

"Do not let it fall into anyone else's hands, obviously. Rest assured, if that ends up in Dumbledore's possession, I will be displeased in the extreme." He let the words hang in mid-air for a moment, an unspoken menace behind them. "Now . . . do either of you have any questions, before I tell you how to get into the Chamber?"

Lucius looked up. "Just . . . just one, my lord. The . . the other Basilisk," he stammered. "You are _sure _it's dead by now?"

Their master's smile widened. "You should certainly hope it is."


	19. From The Inside

**A / N : For everyone who reviews – it means a _lot _to me, really it does. 40 so far! And 19 chapters . . .wow. Hope you're all enjoying the ride! ;)**

**From The Inside**

"Can you see Filch?"

Lucius hesitated, glancing up and down the corridor. "No. I think we're safe," he said, turning to help Bellatrix out of the passageway. She scowled, presumably at the suggestion she needed help, but eventually took the proferred hand and hauled herself into the corridor. Lucius winced a little as she brushed against him, and he felt the Basilisk stir beneath her jumper. She had put it there, preumably to hide it, but it didn't seem inclined to behave. Every few minutes the jumper wriggled restlessly, and more than once he saw a flash of bright green. Lucius decided it was best to get this over with quickly. "Come on," he said in his most authoritive tone, striding down the corridor and trying to look as though he _wasn't _smuggling a man-eating monster into a school. Behind him, Bellatrix giggled.

"Er . . Lucius?" she said, fighting back laughter. "You don't know where you're going, do you?"

Lucius stopped abruptly. Come to think of it . . . "No," he conceded, turning round to face her.

Bellatrix smirked. "_This _way," she said, grabbing him by the elbow and tugging him down a flight of stairs. "Here we are," she said at last, stopping in front of a door that had previously passed beneath Lucius' notice. He grimaced.

"You know," he said awkwardly, "I sincerely hope this room was once used for some other purpose. Because I have a great deal of respect for Salazar Slytherin, and the thought that he once spent great quantities of time creating a hidden lair in a _girl's lavatory . . ."_

"Oh, I doubt it," Bellatrix said breezily. " After all, our master said to look for a snake engraved on a tap. It's probably been a girl's bathroom all along . . ."

As Lucius felt his admiration for the school's noble founder diminish fractionally, Bellatrix threw the door open and stepped inside, with all the theatricality of an actress stepping onto the stage. "Bellatrix!" he hissed, furious, "What if there was someone in there?"

She only laughed. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "There's never anyone in here. Only Moaning Myrtle."

"That's right," a glum voice said behind her. "Only me. And no-one ever stops by to visit . ."

Lucius stared. The owner of the voice was a squat, morose-looking ghost dressed in silvery-grey Hogwarts robes. She was perched on top of a toilet cistern, picking at a spot on her chin and wearing a dejected expression. After a moment Lucius felt compelled to speak.

"I . . I'm sorry," he said at last, frowning. "You haunt a _toilet?" _

The ghost scowled. "So what if I do?" she said accusingly. "It's my toilet, I can do what I like with it. After all, I'm the one who _died _here. _I _belong here." She paused, and then she added, "_You _don't. You're a _boy."_

Lucius gaped at her, wondering how anyone, living or dead, could be this territorial over a dingy, thousand-year old bathroom. He glanced at Bellatrix, hoping for some assistance, but she was poring over the sinks and paid him no heed. He sighed. Apparently he was going to have to out-manouevre the surly spirit on his own.

"I disagree with that statement," he said smoothly. "I surely have more of a right to be here than you."

"_You do not!" _Furious, the ghost balled her hands into fists and kicked the door of one of the cubicles, a gesture which had almost no effect, as her foot slid straight through it.

"Oh yes I do," Lucius continued, smirking. "After all, _I _am a current student of Hogwarts. I have every right to be here. _You _do not. _You, _Myrtle, stopped being a student a long time ago. And yet, you haven't left. At best, that makes you a squatter."

Myrtle's mouth fell open. Then she gave a terrible, high-pitched scream and drew herself up to her full height, swooping down on Lucius in a rage. She passed straight through him, freezing his heart and lungs for a moment, and then she plunged into a nearby toilet. A wave of water rose up from it and crashed onto the floor, slopping over Lucius' shoes. Grimacing in distaste, he shook out the leg of his trousers and rolled his eyes. After a moment, a gurgling sound that might have been sobbing rose up from the U-bend.

"Well. That was convenient," Bellatrix said brightly. "Now at least we don't have _her _to worry about."

"Mmm. Did you find it?" Lucius asked. The closer they got to the Chamber, the more apprehensive he felt.

"Just a minute . . . aha!" Bellatrix looked up, triumphant. "Here we are," she said. And before Lucius could do anything to delay her, she had wrapped her fingers around the amulet and spoken a single, foreign sounding word. For a moment, nothing happened. Then there was a grinding sound, and the tap she had spoken over vanished from view, shortly followed by the entire sink. What remained was a dark hole in the wall large enough for a man to slide into. An exposed pipe, sloping down into darkness. He and Bellatrix stood staring into it for a minute, the enormity of what they were about to do hanging over them. Then Bellatrix shrugged.

"Oh well," she said. "No time like the present, I suppose . . ."

And without further ado, she jumped into the pipe and vanished. "Bellatrix!" Lucius shouted, in vain. There was no response. Groaning, he took a deep breath and jumped in after her.

The inside of the tunnel was black and stinking. Lucius hurtled through the dark, trying to ignore the slime which clung to his skin and the fact that his lunch, the last meal he remembered eating, was attempting to force its way back up his throat.

"Ah!" He shot free of the tunnel at last and landed with a _crunch. "_Ugh." Struggling to his feet, Lucius saw that the ground was littered with rodent skeletons, thousands upon thousands of them. "Disgusting . .." he muttered, and then something else struck him. "Bellatrix?" he said, momentarily panicked.

"Over here."

She was leaning against the opposite wall, panting. The Basilisk had come out from under her jumper and twined itself around her waist, its tongue flickering against her wrist.

"That blindfold is still in place, isn't it?" Lucius asked.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lucius."

"Good." Lucius pulled out his wand and glanced at their surroundings. He supposed they must be many miles under the school. Under the lake, even. The walls here glowed an eerie, ghostly green, rather like those of the Slytherin common room. "Come on," he said. For once, Bellatrix obeyed without question. They walked in silence for some time, a fact which did absolutely nothing for Lucius' nerves. The floor here was slick with water, and every splashing footstep seemed amplified tenfold. Try as he might though, the only sound he could hear was the distant gurgle of the drains.

"Stop." They were facing a wall engraved with a pair of carved serpents, each set with emerald eyes. Her own eyes gleaming oddly in the gloom, Bellatrix took a step forwards and let out her breath in a low, excited hiss. At her voice, the serpents parted, and the wall cracked in two, the seperate halves sliding smoothly out of sight. Gripping his wand very tightly, Lucius followed Bellatrix across the threshold.


	20. Must Get Out

**Must Get Out**

Bellatrix swallowed nervously and stepped into the Chamber. Lucius followed her so quickly that he stepped on her heels and jumped back with a yelp. "Watch it, Lucius," Bella muttered as the Basilisk wrapped itself more tightly around her wrist and hissed angrily. "Shh . . ." she murmured, ignoring the odd look this earned from Lucius. "You were bothering it," she explained, settling it more comfortably on her shoulders. She took a deep breath. So. This was the Chamber of Secrets.

They were standing in a vast stone hall, the walls of which were flanked with towering pillars, each engraved with serpents, At the other end of the hall, just visible, was a colossal statue. Ancient and worn-looking, the marble face of Salazar Slytherin scowled down at them, expressing what could only be described as disapproval. Bella tilted her head to one side, searching the face for any resemblence to her master. Lucius cleared his throat.

"_Bellatrix," _he said, sounding stressed. "Now is not the time for . . whatever it is you're doing!"

Bella sighed. "Fine," she said. Raising her wand, she strode forwards with as much confidence as she could muster. She felt curiously _small _here, a tiny, insignificant figure lost in a huge, empty space, with the weight of history pressing down upon her. It wasn't a feeling she liked. Her footsteps slapped against the wet flagstones, intolerably loud, and every now and then she almost jumped, momentarily convinced that one of the stone serpents had moved. All in all, she felt relieved, despite herself, as she approached the feet of Slytherin. "Come on," she crooned, reaching up to unwrap the snake from her neck. "Time to leave you here." The Basilisk, however, didn't seem to want to leave her. It resisted her attempts to put it down, instead coiling itself more tightly around her arms and slithering further up her neck.

"Bellatrix!" Lucius snapped. "Just put it _down, _will you? I want to leave." The strain was clear in his voice.

"I'm _trying," _Bella protested. "It's not my fault it won't let me . . . hey!"

The Basilisk had chosen that moment to twine itself around her eyes. Effectively blinded and very annoyed, Bellatrix tried to tug it away. It wouldn't budge.

"Lucius," she said impatiently, "help me, will you? I can't _see."_

"I'm not touching it," Lucius said apprehensively.

Bellatrix struggled with the creature for another long minute before she lost patience altogether. Grappling with the chain around her neck, she squeezed the amulet and cried, "I order you to let me go!" What emerged was a furious, spitting hiss. But it had the desired effect. Although it looked for a moment as though the creature was going to disobey her, eventually it loosened its grip and slithered meekly onto the floor, curling into a tight ball in the folds of Slytherin's stone robes. Bellatrix rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Come on, Lucius," she said tiredly. "Let's go."

They had made it halfway across the Chamber when he flung out an arm and stopped her in her tracks. "Lucius?" she said, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, I suppose. I thought I heard . . .. there!" He turned to face her, wild-eyed. "Do you hear that?"

"No, I don't . . ." she was midway through her own sentence when she stopped abruptly, because she had heard it too. An odd, rasping sound, like sandpaper sliding over stone. It seemed to go on and on . . . . Her eyes widened. "No . . ." she whispered. But Lucius' gaze was fixed on something behind her.

"RUN!" he shouted suddenly, seizing her wrist and pulling her along with him. When Bellatrix tried to turn round, he yanked her arm sharply. "Don't _look _at it, are you an idiot?!" he exclaimed, hauling her onwards. Behind her, Bella heard the unmistakeable sound of something immense moving towards them. Ignoring her own racing heart, she picked up the pace, hurtling towards the Chamber's entrance. If they could just seal it behind them . . . .At her heels she heard the snap of the monster's jaws. She couldn't help herself. She screamed, and at the same time Lucius threw himself into the shadows, shoving her behind a pillar. CRACK. By the sound of it, the Basilisk had rammed into the wall in its determination to swallow them whole. Lucius didn't give her time to dwell on it. He dragged her onwards, through the Chamber's entrance and into the passageway. Pulled along in his wake, Bellatrix could only hope they were blundering in the right direction. Because all this piping and tunnels looked the same to her. "We should have sealed the entrance!" she yelled.

"No time!" Lucius panted.

CRACK. Something huge collided with the wall, sending pebbles and debris raining down on their heads. The floor shuddered.

Lucius grabbed her by the elbow and veered sharply left, scrambling into another man-sized opening. Their feet clattered briefly against the pipe's metal interior, and then an eerie silence fell. Lucius doubled over, staring at the floor and clutching his ribs, his breathing ragged. And then, quite suddenly, he froze, and several things happened at once. The first was an enraged hissing sound that emanated from somewhere very close by. The second was an explosion of water, which surged into the pipe and drenched them both from head to foot. And the third was Lucius, who made a tiny, scarcely audible choking sound and keeled over, utterly still. At that moment Bella saw a flash of something immense and vivid green, which obscured the tunnel's entrance for an instant. There was an almighty thump, and the inside of the pipe rattled. Screwing up her eyes, Bella leapt out of the pipe and screamed the first spell which came to mind - "_LUMOS MAXIMA!" _There was a deafening, inhuman shriek, but she didn't wait to hear any more. "_IMPEDIMENTA!"_

_BANG. _The monster's head smashed into the tunnel wall with an ear-splitting crack, and it fell to the floor, senseless. _Was it dead? _Trying to quieten her breathing, Bellatrix approached the creature. It was lying motionless, with a definite dent in its skull, and its bulbous yellow eyes had already grown dull. She had killed a Basilisk. Bellatrix tried to feel pleased about this. It was surprisingly difficult.

Bella shuddered. She was cold, and her every breath tore at her lungs. One of her ankles was throbbing too – she could only suppose she had twisted it. Although, that said, a spasm of pain shot through it as she put her weight on it. She hoped it wasn't sprained. At the moment, however, she had bigger things to deal with. Lucius was lying frozen in the mouth of the pipe, his eyes open and glassy. Bella felt her stomach lurch.

"Lucius?" she said uncertainly.

He didn't respond.

**A / N : That was fun. Reviews? I'll also accept reviews for earlier chapters, if anyone new is reading. It's all good. I just love reviews, lol. ;) **

**Also, I'm coming down with some kind of deranged headcold / flu type thing, so the next update might be a while. . . Sorry. xxx**


	21. Handle This

**Handle This **

"_Wake up!" _Bella cried, the sound torn halfway between a scream and a sob.

"Lucius? _Lucius!_"

Bella swallowed hard, shaking Malfoy by the shoulder. His skin was cold as ice beneath her touch and as unyielding as the stone flagstones under her feet. "Malfoy!" she shouted, pummelling his chest in frustration. But no bruises bloomed beneath her fists, and Lucius' blank, staring eyes did not so much as flicker. She might as well have been attacking a statue. Furious, she struggled to her feet and kicked out at the only thing within reach, the thick, scaly hide of the dead Basilisk. All this gave her was a dull pain in her foot, to match the throbbing one in her ankle. Bella leant against the wall for a moment, fighting to control her breathing while a dead, empty silence swelled around her, broken only by the occassional _drip drip _of water falling elsewhere in the tunnel. Folding her arms, she let herself slide down the tunnel wall until she found herself sitting on the floor, cradling her head in her hands. More than anything, she wished she still had the baby Basilisk to hold onto; a writhing, reassuring weight inside her jumper. But it was inside the Chamber now, waiting for the true heir to call it forth again. Bella fiddled with the silver serpents on the amulet instead, tracing their fixed coils with her fingertip. _Breathe in, breathe out. _There had to be a way to fix this. Lucius couldn't be dead. He just _couldn't _be.

_Maybe you just don't __**want **__him to be dead, _a snide inner voice pointed out. _After all, _it continued smugly, _the evidence isn't really in your favour now, is it? _"Oh shut up!" Bella snapped to no-one in particular, aware, even as she said it, of how ridiculous she sounded. _Talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, after all._ "I am not mad," she growled into thin air, and then she groaned. She was having an argument with herself, in the Chamber of Secrets. Maybe she really _was _mad.

Scowling, Bella hauled herself over to where Lucius lay and prodded him again. How had this happened? After all, Lucius hadn't looked the Basilisk in the eye. She knew he hadn't. She'd been watching him, and the only thing he'd been looking at was the floor. So surely he couldn't be dead? Hesitantly, she picked up one of his frozen wrists and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Frowning now, she fished around in her pocket until she found what she was looking for, a compact mirror. She lowered it to his mouth and waited expectantly, hoping a misty, outdrawn breath would obscure the surface. But it didn't. With a cry of frustration, Bella flung the mirror against the opposite wall and kicked Lucius. _Typical! _That's what this was, in Bella's opinion. She had _begged _for a chance to prove herself to her master, and now Lucius had ruined everything by _dying. _Idiot.

Well, she still couldn't leave him here. People would notice if Lucius Malfoy just dropped off the face of the earth. So she had to find a way to drag him back up the tunnel . . . Swallowing, Bella pointed her wand at him. _"Mobilicorpus!" _Invisible ropes wrapped themselves around Malfoy's wrists and ankles and pulled him into a crude standing position, floating a foot from the ground with his head lolling grotesquely. The greenish glow of the tunnel wall lent Lucius' already corpse-like features an Inferi-like cast. Trying not to look at him, Bella pushed him ahead of her and marched towards the tunnel's entrance, reflecting instead on how much easier it was to find her way out now she wasn't running for her life. Eventually she found herself back at the pipe which led to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It was easy enough to levitate Malfoy, but Bellatrix found it little more difficult to climb back up the tunnel after him. The inside of the pipe was covered in slime and sloped dangerously, with nothing to hold onto. Emerging at long last in Moaning Myrtle's now deserted bathroom, Bella found that she was wet through and covered in slime, while Lucius looked like something that had recently been exhumed. Partly to put him out of sight, and partly because she was afraid Myrtle might return, Bella cast a Disillusionment Charm upon his prone form.

What she needed, Bella realized, was a way to get Lucius out of the castle without being seen. The best option, she decided, would be to use the Floo network to bring him home. From there she could surely find a way to contact their master, or another senior Death Eater.

By some miracle, she made it to Slughorn's office without running into any of the teachers, troublemakers or ghosts that usually roamed the school's corridors at this hour of the night. Fighting the nervousness that was making her stomach flip, she slowly pushed the door open. The room was dark, the only light emanating from a fire burning low in the grate and a cluster of candlesticks sprouting like a colony of toadstools on the desk. Slughorn was sitting there but as she drew closer she realized that he was asleep, one fat cheek pressed against a sheet of parchment and his fingers wedged in an empty box of sweets. _"Dear Ambrosius," _she read, upside-down, _"My thanks for the crystallized pineapple! It was nothing short of sublime, my dear boy. Do you know, I think that you would benefit hugely from an apprenticeship with another confectionary craftsman. There's no telling how far you might go, with your talents, and just between us . . . ." _Bella rolled her eyes. She found what she was looking for in a little pot on the mantlepiece – Floo powder. Tightening her grip on Lucius' arm, she reached into the pot and withdrew a handful of glittering green powder. She froze, her fist suspended above the flames, as Slughorn snorted in his sleep and turned over, yawning a little. Mumbling to himself, he flexed his sugar-coated fingers and knocked the empty confectionary box onto the floor. Before it could hit, Bella flung Lucius into the flames and threw the Floo powder in after him. The flames flared vivid green at the very same moment Slughorn fell out of his chair with a resounding _crash. _Without looking round, Bella hurled herself into the grate and shouted "Malfoy Manor!"

Slughorn's office disappeared in a blur. Bella screwed up her eyes against the hot, howling wind and dug in her fingers, fighting to keep a hold of Lucius, whose dead weight was throwing her off course. "Malfoy Manor!" she screamed again in desperation, struggling to stay upright as her ankle threatened to give way beneath her. Her head knocked against something hard and she saw stars for a moment. She blinked and they disappeared, replaced by a succession of fireplaces which showed themselves to her in brief flashes, revealing snatches of the rooms beyond before they vanished, hauling her onwards. She closed her eyes, about to be sick, when the network spat them out abruptly, and she fell to the floor in a dark, unfamiliar room. She groaned, pushing Lucius off her, and stood up, examining their surroundings. All around her were shelves, racks, and rails, draped and stacked with fabric. _Robes, _she realized, pulling a silken set from a nearby rack. They were in Madam Malkins robe shop.

Levitating Lucius once more, she let them out of the shop and stepped into Diagon Alley. The street was deserted. Only the windows of The Leaky Cauldron glowed with a warm yellow light, and the only people within sight were a furtive-looking pair in dark cloaks, who withdrew into the depths of Knockturn Alley as she looked at them. Not for the first time, Bella cursed her Trace. If it wasn't for that, she could just apparate to Malfoy Manor. As it was, she was going to have to be more creative. Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the kerb and flung out her wand arm.

BANG. From nowhere, a bus appeared, bearing down upon them with its headlights blazing. Bella had never taken the Knight Bus before. Triple-decked and violent purple, she couldn't stop herself staring at it as it rolled to a smooth halt in front of her and a young wizard not much older than her jumped off the back. He was rather weedy and weak-chinned in appearance, but as his eyes met hers he flashed her a sudden, dazzling smile. "Good evening!" he cried in an implausibly jolly tone. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard! Or anyone who's had one too many near misses with splinching to trust Apparition, hahaha. My name is Gilderoy Lockhart and I will be your conductor for this evening! Where would you like to go?"

Bella gaped at him. She thought the impossible brightness of his shining white teeth might have blinded her for a moment. "Malfoy Manor," she managed at last, suppressing the urge to knock them out one by one.

"Alright," Lockhart said cheerfully. "Is your friend coming too?"

"My friend?" Bella repeated blankly. Looking round, she realized too late that her Disillusionment Charm had come undone and Lucius was lying fully visible in the middle of the road. Before she could come up with an excuse, Lockhart bounded into the road and picked him up, grimacing a little at the weight as he dragged him onto the bus.

"Awfully cold, isn't he?" he said cheerily, settling Lucius into a particularly squashy armchair by the window. "Hold onto your seats!" he called, as they took off again with a loud BANG. The coins Bella was counting into her palm scattered all over the floor and she fell out her seat. Upstairs, there was a nasty spattering sound that suggested someone had just been sick. Lockhart smiled benignly at her as she straightened up. "Present, is it?" he said, jerking his head in Lucius' direction.

Bella gave him a blank stare. "What?"

"The mannequin," Lockhart replied happily. "I must say, that's quite simply the most brilliant idea for a present I've ever come across. Wouldn't mind one myself. Where did you get it?"

Suddenly aware that her mouth was hanging open, Bella shut it. "It . . it was custom made," she said faintly.

"Oh." Lockhart looked disappointed. "_Brilliant _idea though," he continued covetously. "I mean, simply _remarkable. _No more faffing about with mirrors and agonizing over 'is primrose _really _my colour?'. No, you just pop it on the mannequin and hey presto!" He shook his head in wonderment. "I'm going places you know," he confided. Bella raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes," he continued happily. "You'll see. One day soon, it'll happen . . . .Gilderoy Lockhart. _That's _a name to watch. And you can say you met me!" He beamed at her.

Bella shook her head at his stupidity and glanced out the window instead. They were rolling through a chalky white quarry, and then . . . BANG. The scene outside her window changed in an instant, and they were tearing through a cobbled street in Aberdeen. Lockhart, apparently unperturbed, was now examining his reflection in the back of a shiny silver sickle.

"Next stop, Wiltshire!" the driver cried in an irritable tone.

Lockhart jumped. "Great Scott, is it Wiltshire already?" he said with a yelp.

BANG. Lockhart leapt to his feet as they raced through rolling green fields. "Next stop Wiltshire!" he shouted, toppling over as they screeched to a halt outside a pair of elaborately crafted iron gates. "Malfoy Manor! That's your stop," he added unneccessarily.

"I know that," Bella said, annoyed.

Lockhart shrugged as he dumped Lucius unceremoniously on the ground beside her. "Gilderoy Lockhart! Watch this space!" he shouted enthusiastically as the bus roared off into the distance, leaving Bella alone beneath the clear night sky.


	22. Fix You

**A / N : For Attraversiamo and JoSchmo666 this time, my latest lovely reviewers! Also, I have a new oneshot on my profile page, check it out if you're interested, dear reader. You may like it. :P**

**Fix You **

_Rosier, _

_I need to see you. NOW. _

_B.B._

Bellatrix hesitated, her quill hovering over the inkpot. That would do, wouldn't it? She had considered adding _"I think Lucius is dead" _but it seemed melodramatic, somehow. No need to scare her cousin. Smirking, she fastened the letter to the leg of a waiting owl. "Take this to Evan Rosier," she said, pausing briefly before adding, "I don't care what he's doing. Don't leave him alone until you see him leave. Got that?" The owl gave her a rather withering, McGonagall-esque stare and hooted imperiously, preening its plumage before taking off and swooping very slowly out of the window. Bella scowled. Why was it that even Malfoy's _owls _were vain and self-important? She sighed, falling onto the sofa beside his cold, frozen form.

"This is all your fault, you know," she said after a moment. He didn't respond. Then again, she hadn't really expected him to. She carried on regardless. "I mean, you told _me _not to look at it, so why would _you . . ." _She shook her head, lost for words. "What's taking Rosier so long?" Bored, Bella pulled Lucius' watch from his wrist and tried to check the time. Half past nine? It couldn't be half past nine. Irritated, she shook it, but neither hand moved. It seemed that Lucius' watch, like him, was frozen in time. "Why do you always have to _match?" _she demanded, annoyed, as she threw the watch to the floor and got to her feet again, pacing impatiently.

She had almost given up hope completely when the fire flared green and a familiar figure stumbled out of it.

"Bella!"

Rosier crossed the room in four strides and grabbed her by the arms, squeezing her arms, shoulders and waist, and shaking her as though he expected to hear a broken part rolling around inside her ribcage.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded. "Are you hurt? What happened? Ow!"

He withdrew his hands abruptly and held up his palms, which had turned a raw, blistered red.

"What was that for?" he asked indignantly. Bella rolled her eyes.

"Oh grow up. It was a _Stinging Jinx," _she said impatiently. "I've warned you before about touching me. And calling me Bella. "

"I was _worried _about you! For crying out loud! You send me a letter like that and then you turn up looking like you've been buried alive – what am I _supposed _to think?"

"Well I'm fine," Bella said shortly. "That's not why I called you here."

"Then what do you want?" Rosier asked suspiciously.

In reply, Bella simply pointed at Lucius' lifeless form. Rosier jumped.

"_Exactly. _I need to see our master."

Rosier looked briefly mutinous at the mention of 'our master', but then he rolled up his sleeve and pressed his forefinger to the Mark, wincing a little as it burned black.

"He might not come right away" he muttered.

"But he will come?"

Rosier nodded. "A follower is only supposed to press the mark if it's really important – I mean, obviously. It's not as if he's at our beck and call, we can't just _summon _Him . . . ." he trailed off, gazing into the fire with a morose expression. Clearly his last punishment for being disrespectful to their master was weighing heavily on his mind.

Bella rolled her eyes and began pacing the room again. If Rosier wanted to have some discussion about his emotional shortcomings, she wouldn't hesitate to unleash another Stinging Jinx.

"Here."

Bella looked up. Rosier was attempting to force a drink into her hands, a hot lemon and firewhiskey concoction.

"Just drink it, will you?" he snapped. "You're as white as a sheet."

Bella took the glass and examined it dubiously, searching for any evidence of Amortentia while Rosier clubbed the house-elf over the head with Abraxas Malfoy's cane, effectively dismissing the creature. Eventually she decided it was safe and took a sip, settling herself into a chair by the fire which smelled of firewhiskey and crushed cloves. For a while, Rosier simply busied himself with staring at her, but after a few dagger sharp looks he relented and began to pace the room. Stopping by Lucius, he prodded Malfoy's frozen frame and briefly attempted to close his eyelids, without success. Eventually he flopped onto the sofa and began watching the door instead, sneaking looks at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Suddenly he jumped. "Master!" he cried, springing to his feet and falling into a clumsy bow. Bella leapt to her feet too, caught off guard, and accidentally slopped most of her drink into the hearth. The fire hissed and the flames burned brighter for an instant, before calming down again. Bella fell to her knees, her face burning with embarrassment.

"Up." Their master's voice was a lazy drawl. Both Bella and Rosier scrambled to obey him. When they were both upright, he continued. "There is a problem, I take it?"

Bella nodded. "It's . . . it's Malfoy, my lord. He's . . . well I don't know what he is, to be honest. I think he's dead but I don't know _how. _I mean, he wasn't even _looking _at it, so -"

Her master interrupted her, holding up his hand to stop her explanations. "Rosier, go," he ordered. Rosier didn't need telling twice. He backed out of the room, though his eyes lingered on Bellatrix until the door swung shut behind him. The Dark Lord, meanwhile, bent down in front of Lucius and examined him closely for a long, silent moment.

"He is not dead," he said at last.

Bella stared. "Not – not dead?" she repeated incredulously. "But . . ."

"He did not look the creature directly in the eye, but it seems likely that he did make some form of eye contact with it."

"There was water on the floor . . ." Bella said slowly as understanding dawned.

Her master inclined his head. "Yes," he said carefully. "A reflection would do it . . .He is in a Petrified state, which is unfortunate, but it can be reversed. There will be no permanent damage."

He straightened up abruptly and crossed to the fireplace, seizing a handful of Floo Powder. It took Bellatrix a moment to realize he was actually about to _leave. _

"No, wait! You can't just leave!" she cried. She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth. Her master had frozen, his hand still suspended above the flames, but he hadn't turned round.

"I . . . I'm sorry, master," Bella stuttered, steeling herself for a punishment. "I didn't mean to be . . . I just . . .please, master," she finished desperately. "I don't know what to do. Can't you – _won't . . _you fix him? I . . .I don't . . ."

She sounded whiny and pathetic, and what was worse, she knew it. But what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't fix Lucius if he didn't tell her how to.

There was a long silence and then . . .Bella's heart stopped. He was laughing, chuckling quietly. "Oh Bella," he said softly, turning round to face her at last. "Don't you see? It isn't _my_ problem to fix."

Still laughing, he stepped into the fireplace and disappeared.


	23. Everything's Not Lost

**A / N : For xDouble Indemnity this time, my latest lovely reviewer. R&R if you like, you know the drill, guys!**

**Everything's Not Lost **

The clock struck four, and Bella shivered. She was cold, in her still-damp school uniform, and incredibly annoyed. So far she had kicked Lucius (twice) , thrown a vase against the wall and smashed a glass over a house-elf's head. And she still wasn't any closer to finding a solution. At present she was curled up in an armchair in Lucius' bedroom, silently fuming as she watched the embers of the fire die down. She had dumped Lucius rather unceremoniously on his bed , but the sight of his blank, staring face was beginning to annoy her. So she covered it up, throwing a pillow over his head with a moan of despair, and kicking the bedstead. At last she sighed, and picked up a candle from the bedside table. If she couldn't think of a way to cure Lucius, then she could at least try and find something else to wear. There were over a hundred rooms in this house. Surely _one _of them contained women's clothes? With this aim in mind, Bella let herself out of the room and headed down the corridor, opening various doors and peering into the rooms inside. For a long time, she found nothing of interest. Then she stumbled across a door in a panelled wall. Behind it was a narrow, winding set of stairs, leading into another hallway. The rooms here were mostly shut up and gloomy looking, filled with old, dusty tapestries and antique furniture draped in dustcovers. The last door in the hallway seemed to be stuck. She put her weight against it and pushed, and with a final, forceful shove, she succeeded in getting it open.

She saw at once, as she stepped into the room, why it had been shut up. This must have been Lucius' mother's room. There were pearls beside the lamp and embroidered cushions on the bed, and a set of elaborately wrought silver photo frames on the dressing table. They mostly depicted a younger looking Abraxas, glowering into the camera, or a baby Lucius, but one them showed a fair-haired young witch. She was sitting on the rim of the fountain with a book in her hands. She was smiling, and behind her water cascaded down, clear and sparkling. Bella stared at the picture for a long moment, and then she put it down. It made her uncomfortable, somehow. Eventually she left the room and trudged back down the stairs, having decided that while her school robes might be stiff with grime and stinking to boot, they were still preferable to the clothes of a dead woman.

Rounding a corner, she stopped suddenly. She was facing a painting of a Malfoy in medievel, high-necked robes, and the floor underneath her feet had turned from polished floorboards to old flagstones. She was lost. Sighing, Bella opened the door nearest to her, hoping to at least get her bearings. What she saw, as the flickering light of the candle spilled into the room, made her smile in delight. This wasn't a room she had ever been in before. It was _better. _Bellatrix had found a library.

Moving quickly now, Bella pushed ahead into the room, tracing a finger along the shelves as she passed them. Books! This was _perfect. _Some of these books looked unspeakably ancient, and seeing as this was the Malfoy family library, most of them were bound to have the Dark Arts as their subject matter. For the first time since her master had disappeared, Bella allowed herself to feel hopeful. _Secrets of the Darkest Art . . . Magicke Moste Foule . . . Monsters Moste Evile . . . _It was as she passed a huge tome dedicated to wizarding geneaology that it happened. The door to the library burst open abruptly and Abraxas Malfoy stumbled into the room, shouting at the top of his voice.

"WHERE IS SHE?" he bellowed. "I'll kill her! Do you hear me, girl? I'LL KILL YOU!"

Bellatrix jumped, dropping the candle in the process. Hot wax splashed over her shoes and the flame was promptly extinguished. Abraxas, meanwhile, was lurching towards her.

"WHERE IS SHE?" he shouted again, furious. "I'll find you, girl, so it's no good hiding! Do you hear me? I'll find you and I'll kill you, I'll make you pay . . . "

"Master!" He was interrupted by a small, squeaky voice. A tiny house-elf had appeared in the doorway, clutching a lamp half its size and wearing an expression of abject terror.

"M-master!" it squeaked, plucking nervously at the sleeve of his robe, "Please go back to bed, sir! Master is ill, master isn't thinking right! Master is seeing people who aren't there!"

Abraxas swung round and shook the elf off in one movement. "Liar!" he thundered. "Liar! I know she's here! And I know what she's done! I'll kill her! I'll kill her!"

Bella threw herself behind a bookcase as he pulled out his wand, muttering under his bath. The house-elf, meanwhile, had staggered upright again, looking distinctly cross-eyed.

"M-master!" it panted. "Dobby wouldn't lie sir, Dobby was born to serve his family, and Dobby will die in service of his family sir!"

Abraxas ignored him. He was laughing now, a deranged, hiccoughing laugh. "So you want to hide, do you? Alright then. Hide, like you hide the boy! It doesn't matter. I'll find you. I'll find you, and I'll . . ." He trailed off, and pointed his wand at a nearby table. With an ear-splitting _BANG_, it was blasted apart. Panicking now, Bella edged away from his approaching footsteps, careful to stay hidden by the shelves. What was he doing? Who was he looking for? At first, Bella had thought he meant her. But now, she wasn't so sure. There was something curiously unfocused in his eyes, as he passed through the lamplight. And the elf didn't seem to be looking for her at all. It seemed to be trying to calm the old man down, more than anything.

"_Master," _it pleaded, "there's no-one there! The mistress is dead, master, you can't find her! Why doesn't master remember?" It wrung its hands in desperation as Abraxas blasted two whole bookshelves to pieces. Bella smothered a scream as splintered wood and torn pages rained down upon her. Stumbling free of the wreckage, she found herself face to face with the house-elf. Its eyes widened in shock.

"_Miss Black?" _it whispered tremulously. "But Miss Black is a friend of the young master's! What is Miss Black doing here?"

Bella ducked as a torch bracket snapped off the wall behind her and rebounded back towards Abraxas, spinning through the window with a crash.

"I don't have time to explain myself to you, vermin," she hissed. "Lucius is . . . sick, I suppose. I have to find a way to make him better. That's all _you _need to know, and if I hear a word about it from anyone else, I'll wring your neck. Understand?"

Terrified, the elf nodded. "But Miss Black has to leave! Miss Black can't stay here," it entreated, "or the master will hurt her! Master doesn't know what he's doing-"

_Crack. _Something solid collided with the back of the elf's head and it toppled over, its eyes sliding out of focus. Bella looked up, her eyes jumping from the elf's suddenly prone form to Abraxas. And then she ran.

She skidded towards the stairs, books flying past her her head. Judging by the crashes emanating from the library, Abraxas had continued to demolish the bookshelves. She had made it halfway down the stairs when a jet of green light soared past her head, missing her by inches, and hit the chain connecting the chandelier to the ceiling. It swung drunkenly for a moment, creaking ominously, and then it fell, with an ear-splitting crash. Bella gave an involuntary scream and missed the next few steps, pulling herself upright at the last minute. She clung to the banister, panting, and then someone grabbed her arm. With a short, sharp scream, she spun round. Abraxas was facing her, hard triumph in the set of his jaw. Seizing her by the throat, he pressed his wand into her ribcage, struggling to get his breath back. There was a crazed gleam in his eye.

"I'll kill you." he panted. "I said I'd kill you, didn't I? I said I would . . ."

Bella struggled against him, trying to get free, or at least reach her wand. But his hold on her throat was too tight, she couldn't breathe . . . . The world had begun to blur around the edges, and still she couldn't . . . . Desperate now, she pushed with all her strength, until she felt him lose his balance. For one horrible, heart-stopping moment, his hold on her throat tightened and she saw stars. Then he released her, and the pair of them tumbled head over heels down the last few steps, landing in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Bella's head collided with the floor and the world went briefly black. When she opened her eyes, it was to find herself lying face down in a mess of broken glass and torn pages, aching all over. Massaging her throat, she climbed unsteadily to her feet.

Abraxas was lying at the foot of the stairs. His eyes were closed and a thin trickle of blood ran from his temple. Swallowing hard, Bella picked up his wand and pointed it at him. "_Enervate," _she whispered. His eyelids flickered briefly, and a groan escaped his lips.

"Can you hear me?" she asked nervously.

His breathing ragged, the old man pushed himself into a sitting position and tried to focus on her.

"Who . . .who are you?" he mumbled thickly. "Are you . . . her?" Something flickered in his expression.

Bella shook her head. "No," she said quickly, "I'm not."

"I wanted to find her . . . I need to . ." he muttered, and then his eyes closed and he slumped to the ground again. Within seconds, he was snoring. Bella stumbled backwards and let his wand fall from her suddenly listless fingers. She was shaking. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she shivered, fighting the urge to be sick. She had never, ever felt like this. So _powerless_ . . . She could still feel his hands on her neck, forcing the breath from her lungs. And for what? He wasn't her master, he wasn't testing her, or punishing her. She took another shaky breath, and then, slowly, she turned her back on him and mounted the stairs.

Safe inside Lucius' room, she locked the door behind her and leant against it, breathing hard. Kicking off her shoes, she crossed the room to Lucius' bed and lifted the pillow from his face. For a long moment, she just stared at him. Then she climbed up beside him and lay down next to his cold, corpse-like form. She was about to close her eyes when she caught a glimpse of something white, just in the corner of her eye. It was a piece of paper, stuck to one of her shoes. Curious, Bella pulled Lucius' wand from his stiff, clenched fist and summoned it. The parchment flew across the room towards her and landed neatly in her lap.

"_Mandragora," _she read, "_is a plante of wondrous potentcy, capable of restoring to their originale states those who suffer the ill-effects of curses moste foule and Transfiguration invoked by man or beast . . ."_

A thrill of excitement coursed through her and she sat up abruptly. _Of course! _This was how to cure Lucius! Mandrake Draught! Slughorn had mentioned it before in Potions, and if she could find the book this page was torn from, she could probably find out how to make it. There was only one problem.

How on earth was she going to get hold of a fully grown Mandrake?


	24. Friends O' Mine

**A / N : For Expecting Rain, who sort of asked for this one . . . Also for Whylite, my latest lovely reviewer! **

**Friends O' Mine **

Narcissa was heading back from the owlery, silently fuming, when she heard raised voices. They were coming from further up the corridor, and from the sound of it, there was an argument going on. She hesitated. Usually, Cissy would have avoided whatever was going on up ahead, and found another route to the common room. But this time, she stopped, because she recognized one of the voices. It was Snape's. The other she didn't recognize at all, but it sounded like a _girl's._ Feeling oddly, irrationally jealous, Narcissa ducked behind a suit of armour and listened intently.

"I don't know what you're talking about." That was Snape, sounding unusually sullen, even for him.

"Yes, you do. All we ever do is argue these days, you must have noticed that." It was the girl who answered him. She sounded unhappy.

"So? That's not _my _fault. I'm not the one with the problem. You're the one who's always dragging Mulciber and Avery into it," he snapped. "I mean, it's not like I go round complaining about _your _friends."

Curious, Cissy sneaked a peek at the pair of them. Snape was standing with his back to her, but he was holding himself rigidly and his fists were clenched. She recognized it as the same defensive posture he adopted unconsciously whenever Sirius Black or James Potter entered the room. The girl, meanwhile, looked frustrated and upset. Her arms were folded and her eyes shone oddly. For a moment, Cissy thought she might be holding back tears. Her expression hardened unexpectedly, however, at Snape's last comment.

"_That's _not true," she said tightly. "You never _stop _complaining about Mary."

Snape gave a contemptuous snort. "Oh, come on," he said derisively. "Mary Mu- I mean, Mary Macdonald – well, she deserves it."

"She does not!"

Cissy smothered a smirk. She knew what Snape had been about to call her – Mary Mudblood, the Slytherins' nickname for her.

"Yes, she does," he muttered. "You act like she's some kind of angel, just because the Sorting Hat stuck her in Gryffindor. If you ask me, that hat makes mistakes more often than it gets it right. I mean," - Narcissa could hear the smirk in his voice now - "it let _Potter _in, so clearly it's malfunctioning."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?"

The girl gave a groan of exasperation. "Dragging Potter into it! We weren't even talking about him!"

Snape flared up at once. "Oh, I see. . . . You're defending him just because he's a _Gryffindor . . . ." _he said angrily.

"You don't even listen to me any more," the girl said sadly. There was an uncomfortable silence. At last, Snape broke it.

"I do," he muttered. "Lily, come on. Just . . . . lay off Mulciber and Avery, and then we'd never fight."

Lily only sighed. "Why are we friends?" she asked at last. "I mean, why are you still friends with me? It's obvious you listen more to Mulciber, or Avery . . . . or your new best friend."

"What?" Snape snapped, "Who's _that?" _

Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it," she said shortly. "Everyone knows you and Narcissa Black are practically joined at the hip these days."

Narcissa jumped at the sudden mention of her own name. But Snape only laughed.

"I just hang out with her sometimes. It's not like she's my girlfriend," he said lightly.

"Isn't she?" the question seemed to fly from Lily's lips before she could stop it. Clamping them tightly shut again, she stared resolutely at the floor.

Snape stared at her for a long moment, his lips moving soundlessly. "Oh, come _on," _he said at last. "You can't honestly think . . .that I . . . that _she . . . ._" He gave a strange, hollow laugh. "Lily," he said, "She's a _pureblood. _She wouldn't touch me."

Lily's head snapped up abruptly. Suddenly, she looked furious. "Oh, right. Silly me. I should have known, _that's _how it is . . ."

"No, Lily, that's not what I . . ."

"I have to get back to the common room," Lily said stiffly.

She pushed away Snape's hand and hurried past him, up the corridor and out of sight. Snape stood in the corridor and stared after her, looking hurt and confused, for a long moment. Then he scowled and picked up his schoolbag, heading back towards the common room. Narcissa gave it a few minutes, and then she hurried after him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder as she caught up.

"Hey."

Snape jumped at her touch. "Don't _do _that," he muttered.

"Sorry."

They walked down a flight of stairs in silence.

"So . . .um, why were you fighting with that Mudblood?"

Snape stopped dead. "You were listening," he accused.

Narcissa shrugged. "I heard my name," she said defensively.

"It was nothing."

"Didn't sound like nothing."

"Well it was."

Narcissa sighed. "I'm trying to be a friend," she said. "Because I am your friend, you know. Well, a better friend than some jumped-up Mudblood, anyway."

A shadow crossed Snape's face, and for a moment she thought he was going to snap at her. Then it passed. "It's complicated," he said instead.

"I'm listening," Narcissa insisted.

He sighed. "She's just . . . some girl I knew before I came to Hogwarts," he said evasively.

"She's a Mudblood, though," Narcissa pointed out.

Snape frowned. "I know _that," _he said unhappily. "You think I don't know that? I can hardly forget it. It's just . . . well, I'm not like you. I'm a half-blood, remember?"

"Oh."

Suddenly, Narcissa felt sorry for him. He must have made friends with this Mudblood back when he didn't have any, and now he didn't know how to drop her.

"It's okay," she said. "I understand."

He frowned again. "Do you?"

"It's okay," Narcissa repeated earnestly. "I won't tell anyone you used to be friends with a Mudblood, I swear."

"I . . . er . . . thanks," he said weakly. He opened his mouth, about to say something else, but then he closed it again. "Thanks."

Narcissa shrugged. "No problem," she said. She smiled at him as they entered the common room. To her surprise, it was empty. Her smile widened as they sat down by the fire, and then she stopped. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What now?" he asked warily.

Narcissa shook her head. "Nothing," she sighed dramatically. "It's just that I don't know why I'm smiling. Not when my life as I know it is _over." _

"_Your_ charmed life? I doubt it," Snape said dryly.

Narcissa ignored him. "It is though," she continued, arranging her face into a more suitably tragic expression.

Eventually Snape gave in, as she had known he would. "What happened then?"

Cissy sighed and shook her head. "Nothing, really. I'm fine."

Snape rolled his eyes. "I won't ask again," he warned her.

"Oh, you're no fun!" Narcissa pouted. Secretly, though, she was pleased. The return of his usual dry, sarcastic humour had to mean Snape wasn't dwelling too much on his fight with that girl. _Mudblood, _she mentally corrected herself.

"Fine. If you really want to know . . . . Lucius is never going to fall in love with me."

Snape grimaced, the way he always did when Narcissa tried to discuss her crush with him. "When was he going to fall in love with you anyway?" he asked disbelievingly.

"He would have! Well, one day," she finished defensively. "He would have fallen in love with me _one _day."

"Right. After he woke you from your hundred year sleep, I'm sure."

Narcissa frowned. "From my what?" she asked curiously. Snape said funny things sometimes. She supposed it was part of being a half-blood, and having been brought up around Muggles.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's a fairy-tale. Sleeping Beauty . . . it doesn't matter."

"Um . . if you say so." Narcissa had managed to get to the age of six before she'd even laid eyes on a Muggle. "Anyway . . . he's not going to fall in love with me now. Not _ever."_

"Why not?"

"Because," Narcissa said darkly, "he's going to fall in love with Bella instead."

Snape shook his head incredulously. "You know," he said laughingly, "I'm actually starting to feel sorry for him. Because he has _no idea _you've planned out his entire love life, does he?"

"No. He doesn't even know I exist," Narcissa said sadly. "Hey! Wait a minute – you're not saying he _won't _fall in love with Bella."

Snape shifted uncomfortably. "Uh . . .well, no offence Narcissa, but she _is _sort of . . ."

"Sort of what?"

Snape reddened. "Nothing. Just . . . pretty. Scary pretty. I don't think it would be easy to say no to her, that's all."

"I'm sure someone could say no to her, if they really wanted to . . ."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Oh great!" Narcissa punched a cushion. "Just great. Now he's definitely going to fall in love with her! I don't stand a chance!"

"What brought this on anyway?"

Narcissa sighed, withdrawing a crumpled letter from inside her robes. "This. He's gone to France with her."

To his credit, Snape looked jealous without being prompted. "What, right before their N.E.W.T.s?" He gave a bitter sort of laugh. "Only a pureblood family like yours would get that one past Slughorn."

Narcissa shrugged. It was true.

"So France, and Bella, who _no-one can resist, _apparently-" here Cissy shot Snape a very ugly look - "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if they come back _married _or something."

To her surprise, Snape laughed. "You give up quickly, don't you?" he remarked.

"Well it's not a fair competition!" Narcissa complained. "I mean, she's smarter than me, and prettier-"

"You're pretty."

Snape reddened. Apparently he hadn't intended to say that.

"I mean-"

Narcissa interrupted him. "Really?"

"I . . ." Snape squirmed uncomfortably. "Well . . . .yeah. You are."

She stared at him. He sighed.

"Look," he said, "I really doubt your sister's going to marry him. I mean, anyone with eyes can see she doesn't like him like that. Just . . . wait until you're a bit older."

"But what if he marries someone else in the meantime?" Narcissa said hopelessly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Sabotage the wedding?" he suggested. "I'll help you, if you want."

Narcissa's eyes widened. "Really?"

"If it'll make you shut up? Sure."

Narcissa smiled. She suddenly felt inexplicably, ridiculously happy. So she blurted out the first thing which came to mind.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

Snape stared at her. "_What?! _I . . you . . you can't just . . ." He stood up abruptly. "I'm going to bed."

Normally, Narcissa would have let him go. But today she felt oddly unlike her usual self. There was a strange, tingling feeling in her stomach, and she felt curiously light-headed. Reckless, even. So she stood up too, blocking his exit. And said -

"I was only going to say . . . if you want, you can kiss me."

Snape swallowed. He was taller than her, so she could see his Adam's apple bob as he did so. "You're crazy," he said hoarsely.

Narcissa shrugged. "I think it runs in the family," she said seriously. "Don't worry though. I'm not in love with you, and I know you're only a halfblood, so Bella would probably go mad if she heard about it, and it's not like I could marry you or anything. . . . but if you want, you can kiss me."

He stood there, unmoving, for so long that Narcissa began to think he must be frozen in place. Or suffering from some sort of sudden onset paralysis. Eventually, she decided it might be a good idea to give him a little push. Taking a deep breath, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then she felt his arm wrap around her waist, half lifting her up, and his lips began to move against hers. Narcissa felt all the blood in her body move to her face, and the breath seemed to burn up in her lungs. His skin was hot too, and he tasted like . . . metal? She couldn't be sure, because as soon as she tried to think about it his tongue was dancing against hers and hers was pushing back - push, push, pull, a crazy, head-spinning sort of tango. They stayed like that for a while – she could never say how long exactly – and then, at last, they broke apart, gasping for breath.

"Um . . . right. Well . . . thanks."

Narcissa was still standing on her tiptoes, and his arms were still holding her up. Blushing furiously, she untangled herself.

"That was, um . . . nice. I . . I, er, think I'll go to bed now."

Snape nodded. He didn't seem to trust himself to speak. "Yeah . . . me too," he said at last.

Still feeling dazed, Narcissa stumbled to her dormitory. She didn't trust herself to look back, because her cheeks were blazing. And oddly enough, she felt like she was flying.

**A / N : Reviews are love, people! _Please_ let me know if you liked it. Because I don't know if you don't tell me! **


	25. Warning Sign

**A / N : For a _lot _of people this time! Let me see . . . . . . The Shattered Star, X Vamp Witch Cat X , Daring D, and x BELLATRIXtheSTRANGE x – because I just noticed you changed your pen name! Also for everyone else who reviewed, I treasure them! **

**Warning Sign**

"Looks like you're out of luck."

Bellatrix looked up from the pile of Boomslang skin she was slicing and frowned at her cousin.

"What do you mean, I'm out of luck?" she asked icily. Rosier sounded a little too pleased about it for her liking. "Well?" she demanded, brandishing the knife at him. He balked at that.

"Remind me again," he said warily, "why I'm at your beck and call, when you won't even tell me what happened to Lucius?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Because you're desperate to please me?" she suggested. "Or because you're in l-"

"Okay, okay! Forget I said anything!"

Bella smirked, returning her attention to the potion. It really was too easy to wind her cousin up.

"So why exactly am I out of luck?"

Rosier smirked right back at her. "Because, Bellatrix, you need something and you can't get it. I went to Diagon Alley," he elaborated, "and pretty much every apothecary I could think of. And not one of them has ripe Mandrake for your potion. Or any kind of Mandrake at all, now that you mention it. So it looks like you're stuck."

Bella frowned. "That's impossible. Did you try Knockturn Alley?"

Rosier laughed. "You'd put black market ingredients in Lucius' potion? I'll be sure to mention it to him, when he wakes up." Noting her scowl, he continued. "That was the first place I tried, actually. And no, nothing."

Bella threw the knife she was holding at the cauldron. It hit the side and bounced off it with a clang that made Rosier jump.

"Well why the hell not?" she cried, furious.

Rosier edged out of her target range. "I asked," he said delicately. "Apparently, the Mandrake is currently considered a Class A dangerous plant, and our esteemed Ministry" - his lip curled - "deems it prudent to restrict the availibilty of such plants, and penalize those who grow them without a permit."

Bella had to fight to control her temper. "What sort of place would have a permit?" she asked carefully.

Rosier shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I think there's a garden at St. Mungo's, but it's not open to the public."

Bella nodded. "I see. So my only option is to steal one from Hogwarts."

"Er . . ." Rosier hesitated, making sure he really was out of Bellatrix's throwing range before he pointed out the obvious. "But you told everyone you went to France. With Malfoy. You can't just swan into the school without him, and then waltz back out again."

Bella waved a hand impatiently, brushing away his concerns. "It doesn't matter," she said defiantly. "I'll find a way. I'll -" She was interrupted at that moment by a knock on the door. "Come in," she snapped.

"Miss – Miss Black?" It was a house-elf. Bella couldn't be entirely sure, but it looked like the one from the library, the one that had been avoiding her ever since.

"What do you want?" she demanded, watching it closely. Sure enough, it seemed to be avoiding her gaze, with more than the usual deference.

"There – there is a visitor," it stammered, keeping its eyes trained on the carpet. "A visitor for Miss Black. A man."

"What man?" Bella asked curiously. Of course, it was unlikely her master would ever wait to see her – well, laughable really – but nonetheless, she was intruiged. After all, no-one else knew she was here. Did they?

The elf twisted the edge of the tattered pillowcase it wore as a toga. "Dobby doesn't know, miss," he said nervously. "Dobby got a clout for asking."

Bella smirked. "Fine. Send him up."

"Yes Miss Black."

"Oh, and Dobby?"

"Y-yes miss?"

"When he leaves, come and see me."

The elf gulped. "Yes miss. Dobby will do that, miss." He all but fled the room.

"You've got random men coming to see you?" Rosier seemed hugely affronted by the very idea.

Bella giggled. _What an odd way to put it._ "I'm not complaining. And you can go, if it bothers you."

Rosier spluttered some rather incoherent curses, but he fell silent as Dolohov strolled into the room.

Bella stared at him in surprise. "_Dolohov? _What are you . . . . . ? Never mind. Come in." She got to her feet, burning with curiousity. What could Dolohov possibly want with her? She had no idea, but she intended to find out. "Rosier, you can go now," she said lightly.

Her cousin scowled but she shot him a quelling look and he obeyed her, glaring at Dolohov as he backed out of the room. He slammed the door behind him but she could still hear him cursing loudly as he clattered down the stairs. She turned to Dolohov as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Why did you come to see me?" she probed.

He shifted uncomfortably on the spot, and she noticed that he had declined to remove his coat, though the room he had just entered was quite warm, probably owing to the potion brewing on the floor. Dolohov frowned at the sight of it. "You don't waste much time, do you?" he asked.

Bella shook her head. "Not if it's important," she said, watching him carefully. "And pleasing our master _is _important to me . . . ." She trailed off, feeling she had made her point.

Dolohov's expression flickered at her words. "Don't put it like that," he snapped.

Bella frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked, bemused. "Don't put it like what?"

"Like you want to. . . . oh forget it." Avoiding her eye, he bent down instead to examine the potion. "Do you have everything you need?" he asked.

Ignoring this, Bella pushed ahead with a new question. "How did you know I was here?" she enquired. "Did our master tell you?" Another thought struck her. "Did he send you here?"

Dolohov grimaced. "No," he said at last, "he didn't send me here."

Bella felt her pulse quicken. "But he told you I was here?"

"Yes." Catching her hungry, expectant expression, he elaborated a little. "I was supposed to finish a . . . task . . . with Lucius. When I asked where he was, our master explained what had happened."

Bella sucked in her breath in surprise. "He told you _everything?" _

Dolohov nodded in affirmation. "I don't know if you're aware of this," he said slowly, "but I'm one of the oldest followers. I was one of the first to get the Mark. And I suppose, as much as anyone could honestly claim to _know _him, I know our master. I went to school with him."

Bella felt a frustrating combination of jealousy and awe, hearing that. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked, confused.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure . . . ."

Bella scowled, annoyed that he was dodging the question. "Why did you come to see me?" she asked again. "Let me guess," she scoffed, "you were checking up on me."

"I . ." He opened his mouth, then shut it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a phial of armadillo bile. Bella stared.

"You _are," _she accused, as soon as she found her voice. "You're _checking up on me!"_

Dolohov didn't confirm her suspicions, but he didn't deny the charge either.

"Why? Did our master ask you to?"

He sighed. "No," he said at last. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"Why _are _you here?" she challenged.

"Well, first off, I recruited Lucius. And I think he has potential. So I suppose you could say I have a vested interest in keeping him alive – it reflects well on me if he goes on to reach that potential."

Bella crossed her arms and stared at him in silence, waiting for him to go on. It was a trick she had picked up from her master, and although she was usually too impatient to apply it well, there was no denying it worked.

Eventually he groaned. "Can we just drop this?"

Bella shook her head. "Not until you explain your bizarre need to check up on me."

Dolohov stood up abruptly. "Fine," he snapped. "I will if you tell me exactly what you're doing."

Bella hesitated, mulling over the suggestion for a moment. Eventually she decided that it couldn't do any harm to be honest.

"Alright. Fine." She took a deep breath. "If you know what happened to Lucius, then you must also know that it isn't that easy to cure him. He needs a potion – Mandrake Draught. I can make it, but it needs ripe Mandrake, and I don't have that. This close to the summer, they're bound to be in season, but I can't buy one. Nowhere's selling. It's ridiculous, isn't it? You'd think that a Black could buy almost anything they wanted – but apparently not. So when you asked me if I had everything I needed . . . . . . the answer is no."

Dolohov nodded. "I see," he said slowly. "You need Mandrake root."

Bella smiled. "No," she answered with a laugh. "Actually I need Polyjuice Potion."

"What?" Dolohov stared at her in disbelief. "You must be mad."

"No," Bella snapped, "I'm not. I need a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts, without anyone realizing I'm not really in France. And I have it." She smiled at his bewildered expression. "My sister," she explained. "Narcissa. She's an idiot, but right now, she's right where I need to be. Safe, and utterly oblivious, in Hogwarts. All I need to do," she smirked, "is steal an hour of her time. She won't miss it. After all, the Hospital Wing is her favourite part of the school. She'd probably even thank me for it."

Dolohov stared at her, dumbstruck. "Well, I'm glad you have a plan, at least," he muttered at last.

"Why do you say that? And _why _are you so interested in my welfare all of a sudden?"

He pulled a face. "Because I like you, Black. I think you have potential. But sometimes, I see Lucius' point of view. I think you might be getting in over your head."

"What?!" Bella glared at him, incensed. "_When_," she fumed, "is everyone going to stop treating me like some stupid child who has no idea what she's doing? I know _exactly _what I'm getting myself into, thank you very much."

"Oh do you?" Dolohov raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you do. Do you know," he spat, "that you amuse him?"

Bella frowned. "I what?"

"Amuse him," Dolohov said savagely. "He thinks you're _entertaining, _Black."

Bellatrix leapt to her feet, about to challenge him, but then she hesistated, tilting her head to the side as she considered his statement.

"What do you mean by "entertaining"?" she asked casually, twining a strand of hair around her finger and trying to look as if she didn't care very much about the answer.

Dolohov groaned and ran a hand over his face. He sighed heavily.

"I'm trying to _help _you, Bellatrix, believe it or not. You'd be doing yourself a favour if you let me."

"I . ." Bella started to refute this, and then she stopped. He had called her "Bellatrix". That was what Lucius did, whenever he was worried. Dolohov, it seemed, was trying to warn her. But about what? None of what he was saying made any sense. "What is it you want me to do then?" she asked, abandoning her attempts to understand. "Because I won't _fail _Him-" The thought made her heart skip.

"Nothing. That's what you'd do, if you had any sense. Just obey orders, and fade into the background."

"I don't think so." Bella felt her hands curl into angry fists, and she had to struggle to control her temper. Shouting at someone so close to her master was probably not a good idea. And it would only make her look childish, the very opposite of the point she was trying to make. "I'm not going to stay stuck in some low-ranking position forever," she continued calmly. "I asked to prove myself and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Dolohov shook his head ruefully. "You don't get it, I can tell. Why do you have to be so ridiculously vain? Why can't you see that not all attention is good attention?"

Bellatrix couldn't help herself. She scowled at him, affronted. "_All _attention from our master is good attention," she insisted. And suddenly Dolohov's face was inches from her own, and he was furious.

"Do you really think so?" he growled. His fingers clamped like iron fetters around her upper arms, and he half lifted her off her feet, apparently without realizing it.

"Do you really think so?" he repeated. "Shall I tell you what I think? I think you don't know the first thing about it. I don't think you have any idea what you're getting yourself into. But I do." He gave a strange, bitter sort of laugh. "And the further in you get, the worse it becomes. You're _sixteen, _for crying out loud! You've got your whole life ahead of you! _Why _would you want to just throw it all away?"

Bella struggled out of his grip and pulled out her wand. "What life?" she retorted, furious.

Dolohov clenched his fists, but he did not attempt to touch her again. When he next spoke, it sounded as if he were struggling to calm his voice. "Your life," he said. "A normal life. Do you know how lucky you are? You could believe in the cause, but not have to fight for it. You could fall in love, and get married, and have kids, and never have to worry about what might happen to them if the Aurors catch up with you."

Bella scowled. "I don't care," she said defiantly. "I don't want that. I don't want to be like everyone else. Where's the fun in _that?_ I want to be different, I want to be . . . special. Respected. Feared. Admired. Anything but _somebody else's wife," _she finished disgustedly. Her heart was racing, but she glared at Dolohov, because she wanted him to think that she was angry, more than anything else. She couldn't let him see the painful, unreasonable panic that filled her at the thought of a life without her master in it. She didn't know why he affected her this deeply, why her heart iced over at the thought of failing him. But it did, and that was an uncomfortable fact she knew she might one day have to examine more closely. But not today. Not yet.

Dolohov sighed. He looked . . . defeated, now. "You're sure?" he said quietly. "I won't ask again."

Bella nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"Fine." The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "Just checking," he said wryly. And then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving Bellatrix staring after him, fighting the tide of confusion and anger that was rising in her chest, and looking for something to kick.


	26. Twisted Logic

**A / N : Um . . . should I have a warning for this chapter? It seems alright to me, but then again, I wrote it. Just in case – it gets a little bit gory. Mild torture scene. But then again, this is a fic about Bellatrix, so is that really so unexpected? **

**Twisted Logic **

"Ow! Ow! Please, Miss Black, please stop! Miss Black is hurting Dobby!"

"Then tell me the truth!"

The elf shook his head and curled into a ball on the floor, bracing himself against further blows.

"Dobby can't," he muttered feverishly. "Dobby is a good house elf, Dobby is keeping his master's secrets! Dobby isn't telling them to anyone, no matter what they does to Dobby . . . ."

Bella snapped. Kicking the elf a final time, she crossed to the fire and pulled the poker from it. Then she knelt down beside the creature and pressed the red hot tip into the hollow of his neck.

"_Tell _me the truth!" she ordered, holding the brand in place as Dobby screamed in protest. "Now!"

She withdrew the poker when the smell of burning flesh became too much to bear. The elf stopped screaming instantly, biting down on his fingers to muffle the sound. There was a mark on his neck now, a blackened stripe of blistered flesh. Bellatrix raised the poker again, holding it inches from his skin, and breathing hard.

"Well?" she panted. "Are you going to tell me? Or shall I do that again?"

The elf didn't meet her gaze. Drawing his knees up to his chin, he whimpered quietly, tears pouring from his bulbous green eyes. "Dobby isn't telling his master's secrets," he mumbled desperately, "Dobby is a good house elf. Dobby is . . . Dobby is a good house elf . . ."

"_A good house elf?!" _

Bella screamed and flung the poker to the ground. It hit the floorboards with a _thunk _that made the elf flinch.

"_Dobby," _she said disgustedly, "is _not _a good house elf. Shall I tell you what Dobby is? Shall I?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Dobby is an ungrateful, neglectful, disgusting piece of slime. Shall I show you what Dobby caused? Shall I? Shall I show you what a good house elf Dobby really is?"

Dropping to her knees, she ripped the silk scarf she was wearing from her neck. "There!" she snarled. "Take a look. What do you think? Is Dobby _really_ a good house elf?"

The elf trembled, his eyes widening in horror as they travelled down her neck, taking in the wreath of ugly purple bruises decorating her throat. He rocked back and forth, tears leaking from his eyes again, but he seemed at a loss for words.

Point made, Bellatrix straightened up and dropped back into her seat, her cheeks a blazing, angry scarlet.

"Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to tell me _why _your master almost killed me? Or shall I find another way to _make _you?"

The elf let out a frightened squeak and shook his head. "N-no," he stuttered at last. "Dobby will tell Miss Black . . . Dobby is a bad elf, Dobby has failed his family . . ." He broke off, sobbing.

Bellatrix allowed him thirty seconds of self-pity while she regained her breath, and then she drummed her fingers against the arm-rest, growing impatient. The elf took the hint immediately. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he blew his nose loudly on his toga and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Dobby . . . Dobby doesn't really know where to begin, Miss Black," he said nervously.

Bella scowled. "The _beginning _is surely the most sensible place in which to _begin," _she said scathingly.

The elf jumped. "Of – of course, Miss Black! The beginning. . . the start . . . Well, Dobby supposes it all began with – with the young mistress."

Bella frowned. "You mean Lucius' mother?" she clarified.

Dobby nodded. "Yes, Miss Black. The young mistress . . . that's where it all begins." He hesitated. "If – if Dobby may ask, how old is Miss Black?"

Bella smacked him for his impudence, and then she settled back in her seat, considering the question. Perhaps it wasn't so impudent after all . . .

"Sixteen," she conceded. "Not that I see what that has to do with anything."

The elf shivered. "No, Miss, nothing. Dobby was only trying to remember," he said rapidly, "Dobby meant no rudeness. Let's see . . . . the young mistress was one year older than Miss Black when she came to live here."

Bella frowned, feeling slightly sickened. _Seventeen . . . ._"How old was Abraxas?" she asked.

The elf dropped his gaze to the floor. "Fifty," he said quietly. "The master was fifty."

"I'm guessing this was an arranged marriage," she said coldly.

Dobby nodded. "At first," he continued, "everything was nice. The young master was born, and the mistress liked the house, and the pretty gardens, and she went to parties, and she was happy. But . . the master . . ."

"What about him? What did he do?"

The elf winced. "Dobby thinks," he said at last, "that the master did love her, in his way. But it was hard for him. The mistress was so young, and the master didn't know to be, he wasn't used to having a mistress in the house. So sometimes . . ." - he cringed at the memory - "sometimes the master lost his temper, and did things he didn't mean. He was always sorry afterwards, he always tried to make it up to the mistress . . . . but . . . . Dobby doesn't know. Dobby doesn't think it was enough. Because one day . . ." - his voice dropped to a tortured whisper - "the mistress did a bad thing. A very bad thing."

Bella frowned. "What did she do?"

But the elf shook his head. "No," he said defiantly. "Dobby liked the young mistress. She was nice to Dobby. She only reminded Dobby to do his extra punishments twice a week, and once" - his chest puffed out proudly - "she even said "thank you" to Dobby. Dobby won't tell her secrets. Dobby won't."

Bella sighed. It didn't matter. She could guess, anyway, what 'the young mistress' had done. "Fine," she snapped. "Just go on with the story."

The elf quivered, twisting one of his bat-like ears as though hoping to pull it off. "Dobby is a bad elf, telling the master's secrets," he mumbled. "Dobby deserves to punish himself . ." He balled his tiny hands into fists and began to pummell his own stomach, knocking himself onto the floor.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Picking up the cooling poker from the floor, she whacked him over the head with it. "I'll punish you afterwards," she said impatiently. "Don't interrupt the story."

The elf's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Miss," he squeaked.

Bella waved a hand and made to reach for the poker again. "The story," she reminded him.

"Oh! Yes . . . . um. . . Dobby forgets where he was . . ."

"The mistress," Bella supplied. "She did a bad thing, most likely involving another man. Does that sound familiar?"

Dobby's eyes widened. "Yes," he said quickly. "The mistress did a bad thing . . . and the master found out." He twisted his hands in his lap, looking unhappier than ever. "The young master was five years old then."

"Lucius?"

"Yes." The elf stared intently at a knot in the floorboards, and when he next spoke, the words came in a rush. It looked as though he was fighting the urge to be sick. "Dobby remembers it well . . . . The young mistress was in a rush. She was frightened, and she was looking for things. . . And then the master started to shout for her."

"What happened?" Bella asked.

The elf squeezed his eyes shut. "The mistress left," he replied. "She gave the young master to Dobby, and ordered Dobby to keep him locked in the nursery, until she came to get him. And Dobby obeyed. Dobby stayed in the nursery with the young master, even though the young master didn't like it one bit. The young master was very fond of his mother back then, and he didn't like that she was leaving him. He screamed and screamed until he was sick, and he hit Dobby and bit Dobby, but still Dobby didn't let him out. Dobby obeyed his orders. And Dobby knew the mistress and the master were fighting, and breaking things, and shouting at each other, but the young master was throwing such a temper tantrum that Dobby couldn't hear them." He shuddered. "Dobby waited for hours, Miss Black. Dobby obeyed his orders, but Dobby started to get worried then, because the mistress didn't return. So Dobby went to look for her." He paled.

A creeping feeling of apprehension stole over Bellatrix. "Did you find her?" she asked quietly.

The elf nodded. "She was dead," he whispered. "She fell down the stairs."

A chill ran down her spine. "Where was Abraxas?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. She still needed to hear it, somehow.

The elf raised his face to hers with a tortured expression. "At the bottom of the stairs," he said miserably. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes seemed to glaze over, as though he was seeing something that wasn't there.

"The master wasn't in his right mind," he said desperately. "So Dobby had to help him. Dobby had to take him away and clean him up, because Dobby couldn't call the Healers, or the Aurors, or anybody, the way the master was behaving. And when the master was better, he called the Ministry, and told them there was an accident . . . . " He met her gaze at last. "Dobby did the right thing," he said anxiously. "Dobby couldn't let the young master lose both his parents in one day, it wouldn't have been right . . . . Dobby did the right thing." He shivered.

Bella stared. "And where," she said slowly, "was Lucius?"

Dobby trembled. "In the nursery," he said in a small voice. "Dobby forgot about him."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "_Forgot _him?" she repeated incredulously. "For how long?"

The elf buried his face in his hands, ashamed. "Dobby went to get him the next day," he whispered.

"You locked him in a room for _twenty four hours?" _she exclaimed, appalled.

Dobby nodded. "Dobby doesn't think," he said tremulously, "that the young master remembers it." He swallowed. "He was very . . . . strange . . . . when Dobby went to get him. He didn't say anything at all, for a long time, after that. Dobby doesn't think," he mumbled, "that he was ever quite right again afterwards . . . ."

"No," Bella said coldly. "I imagine he wasn't."

"And the master was never the same either . . ." the elf mumbled.

Bella fell silent, brooding. Getting to her feet at last, she put the poker back in the fire and raked the coals with it, watching them crumble into glowing embers.

"Dobby?" she said calmly.

"Y-yes Miss Black?"

"I'm going to punish you now," she continued, just as calmly.

The elf swallowed audibly. "Y-yes Mi-" His words were cut off by a scream as the poker pressed into his neck once more. This time, Bella didn't remove it, not even when the acrid stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils and she had to struggle not to throw up. Instead she watched, inexplicibly fascinated, as the elf screamed away his air supply, until his eyes rolled back in his head and only the whites were visible. His back arched and he shuddered uncontrollably, until, finally, she removed the brand. Then he slumped, motionless, to the floor. The tears seeping silently down his cheeks were the only indication he was even alive. Bellatrix let the poker fall into the fire again, and then she bent down to examine her handiwork. The mark on the elf's neck was only black around the edges now. The rest of it was a raw, shining pink, cutting straight down to a gleaming stretch of yellowish-white. Bone.

"You can go now," she ordered, as soon as he started to stir. "Oh, and Dobby?"

Dobby mumbled something that might have been "yes miss", swaying on the spot.

"You can give yourself a week's worth of punishments on top of that."

The elf gave a lopsided nod - blanching as he did so - and then he tottered out of the room.

A wheezing laugh sounded from somewhere behind Bellatrix.

"Well," a hoarse voice announced, "it looks like you'll have no problem fitting in, anyway."

Bella spun round, alarmed. Dolohov was leaning against the armchair, wearing a rather crooked grin and looking distinctly worse for wear. His hair was matted with blood near the temple, and one of his eyes was puffed-up and swollen looking. He laughed again, pressing a hand gingerly to his ribs. Bella scowled.

"How long have you been _there _for?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "A while."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's bad manners to apparate into a room without knocking?"

He only shrugged again.

"Fine," she snapped. "Be as rude as you like. It's not _my _house anyway." She took a deep breath. _Temper, temper . . . _"What are you doing here? And what happened to you?"

"One question at a time, surely?" Bellatrix had the feeling he was mocking her.

"_Fine," _she growled. "What happened to you?"

She chose the question that would probably make him the most uncomfortable to answer. Sure enough, his mouth twisted in a sour smile.

"I meddled in something that was not my concern," he said bitterly. It sounded like a direct quotation, somehow.

Bellatrix frowned. "And what are you here for?"

He gave an odd, coughing sort of laugh, spraying blood across the carpet.

"To meddle in something that isn't my concern."

"What?"Bella could only control her temper so long. _And when people are deliberately vague and irritating, it doesn't help, _she thought angrily.

Dolohov only smiled, if one could call the twisted thing he produced a smile.

"I have a present for you," he said obliquely, withdrawing a flask from inside his coat.

Bella stared at it. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Well that depends on what you think it is," he said, infuriatingly. He flipped the lid open. "Have a look."

Bella was at his side in an instant. She peered into the flask, which contained a thick, glutinous green potion. The stench that rose up from it was something between rotten eggs and overcooked cabbage.

"Ugh. Polyjuice Potion," she said. Feeling simultaneously disgusted and delighted, she put out a hand to take it.

"Not so fast." Dolohov flipped the lid shut and raised the flask above his head, out of her reach. "You don't get something for nothing you know."

Bella glared at him. "Dream on," she said coldly. "I'm not _that _sort of girl."

"What sort of girl?" he deadpanned.

Bella crossed her arms and shot him a filthy look. "A slut," she clarified. He laughed.

"Glad to hear it."

"Then what do you want?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know yet. But I will want something. Information . . . anything. Let's just say you owe me a favour."

Bella considered it. "So," she said cautiously, "A favour for a favour. A favour which, just to be clear, does _not _involve me whoring myself?"

Dolohov nodded. "That's right. A fair swap. And by the way," he laughed, "demanding payment in sexual favours is really a bit beneath me. For future reference."

"Glad to hear it," Bella quipped in return, not troubling to keep the mocking edge out of her voice.

He lowered the flask, and held out a hand. "So, do we have a deal?"

She considered it for all of thirty seconds.

"We do."


	27. Can't Get Along Without You

**A / N : For Lewrah this time, my latest reviewer! **

**Can't Get Along (Without You)**

Narcissa squinted through the crowd, scanning the sea of students leaving the common room and looking for a familiar pallid, hook-nosed face. She was sitting curled up in the seat Bella usually occupied in the common room, the one that was half hidden in an alcove. Narcissa liked it because she escaped people's notice when she was there, although when her sister sat there, she thought of it as Bella's spying seat. She was sure Bellatrix had no desire to escape people's attention, therefore her sister's reasons for sitting there had to be less innocent.

"Snape!"

She leapt to her feet, spotting him at last. He was following Mulciber and Avery, both of whom seemed to be having some sort of bizarre competition. The aim, as far as she could tell, was to see which of them could elbow the other hard enough in the ribs to knock them down the stairs. Mulciber was holding up quite well until Avery decided to cheat by kicking his ankle. Hooking his arm round his friend's neck, Mulciber nevertheless managed to regain the upper hand, or at least level the playing field, by ensuring they both fell down the stairs _together, _landing in a tangled heap at the bottom of the stairwell. Snape rolled his eyes and stepped over them, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sort of half smile.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They stood facing each other for a moment, at a loss for what to say. Behind them, Mulciber and Avery set up an impromptu wrestling match. At last Snape gestured towards the common room door, indicating that they should leave. Narcissa seized upon the excuse gratefully, following him into the hall and up the corridor in pink-faced silence. He coughed.

"This isn't going to be really . . . awkward, is it?" he asked at last, meeting her gaze for a minute and then looking quickly away.

Narcissa fiddled with the strap of her satchel. "Oh no," she said lightly, trying to ignore the fact that her cheeks were slowly turning from pink to red. "It's not going to be awkward _at all." _She stressed the last two words, hoping the emphasis might have some effect. "I mean, people kiss their friends all the time." _Although maybe not like __**that, **_she added silently. "Don't they? I mean, just to see what it's _like._"

"Yeah." To her surprise, Snape did not refute this. "So we're . . . friends?"

"Exactly," Narcissa replied, relieved. "I mean, if you want to be."

"Want to be what?"

She blushed. "Friends."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Obviously." It was Snape who turned red this time.

"Um . . ." Narcissa hesitated. "Are we going to Charms then? It's just . . . well, we're walking in the wrong direction."

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a loud, arrogant burst of laughter. Sirius stood behind them, wearing a cocky, annoying grin.

"I'm not surprised. Well, no. That's not true. I _am _pretty surprised actually - that Snapey can see where he's going. Must be hard. Y'know, what with the mop on his head and all." Sirius let out another unkind laugh. Snape scowled.

"Get lost, Black," he snapped. "Don't you have better things to do than eavesdrop on other people? Things that won't tax your only brain cell too much, presumably."

Her cousin simply laughed. "Don't _you_ have better things to do?" he retorted. "I know a few door hinges that could do with oiling."

"Shut up, Sirius." Narcissa turned a furious, blushing crimson as her cousin's mouth fell open, but she held her ground. "No one asked for your opinion."

Sirius stared at her. "Oh _come on," _he said sarcastically, "you can't be serious? I would have thought even Cissy the Sissy could find a better friend than _Snivellus." _

Before she could stop him, Snape had drawn his wand. Sirius imitated him immediately.

"_Tarantellegra!"_

"_Confringo!" _

The two boys shouted their spells simultaneously. An orange flame shot from Snape's wand and scorched a hole in Sirius' robes. Her cousin yelped and dropped to the ground instantly, trying to squash the flames out of existence. Luckily for Snape, the spell intended for him missed, enabling him to kick Sirius while he was down, which he did with a vindictive smile. "_Expelliarmus!" _he shouted. Sirius' wand flew from his fingers and soared towards Snape, who fumbled the catch and was forced to roll it away from his adversary with his foot. Temporarily wandless, Sirius had to resort to less elegant tactics. He leapt forwards and stamped on Snape's foot, pulling the wand from his grasp as Snape struggled to keep his balance, and hurling it aside. From there, the situation deteriorated rapidly, as both boys found themselves wandless and began to use their fists instead.

"Stop it! Both of you! Stop it _now!"_ Narcissa stamped her foot in frustration. They ignored her. "For Salazar's sake!" she shouted, "This is _stupid! Stop it!" _

No response. Narcissa folded her arms with a little moan of despair. "_Honestly,_ why do boys have to be so _stupid?" _she huffed, fully aware that the boys in question were paying her no heed. "Stop it!"

She didn't even want to _imagine _the trouble they'd all be in if they were caught. Reluctantly dropping her satchel, Narcissa stepped into the fray, trying to position herself between the two boys. "_Stop it," _she repeated firmly, seizing Snape by the arm. He was, she reasoned, the most likely to listen to her. He was definitely the most likely to care. Sure enough, he started at her touch and wheeled round to face her. Unfortunately, Sirius wasn't quite as quick on the uptake.

"Agh!"

Narcissa screamed. Her cousin's fist had collided with her mouth. She reeled backwards, shocked. He had punched her.

Snape's mouth fell open and his fists dropped limply to his sides. Sirius blanched. He was at her side in an instant.

"N-Narcissa, I'm sorry," he said at once. "I'm really sorry, Cissy. I . . . let me see. Please, come on. Let me see."

Narcissa shook her head furiously, hot, angry tears blurring her vision. "I hate you," she whispered, the words muffled by her hand. "I hate you . . ." She began to cry in earnest. She felt rather than saw Snape put his hand awkwardly on her shoulder.

"Let me see," he murmured, so quietly she wondered if Sirius could even hear it. "Come on. It's me. Let me see."

Shaking, unable to stop the tears sliding down her face, she slowly removed her hand. It came away drenched in scarlet. "I hate you," she repeated, blood trickling down her chin. Sirius groaned.

"Cissy, please. Come on, I didn't mean to do it, you know I didn't! I'm sorry, Cissy, I really am-"

An icy voice interrupted him. "And what, exactly, would you have to be sorry _for, _Mr. Black?"

Professor McGonagall stood facing them, her fury evident in the tight line of her mouth. Sirius hung his head. It looked as though he was praying for the ground to swallow him whole.

"On second thoughts," McGonagall continued coldly, "don't. I think I can guess." She drew herself up to her full, imposing height. "Miss Black, I would advise you to go to the hospital wing. Immediately. Mr Snape," - she pursed her lips disapprovingly - "I am deducting fifty points from your house for this shameful exhibition." Sirius smirked, but a moment later he howled in horror as she continued, "And from you, Mr Black, I shall deduct one _hundred_ points. I don't care what the circumstances are. Hitting a young woman is inexcusable in any circumstances. _Particularly _if the student committing the offence is a Gryffindor.Your house, need I remind you, is renowned for its _chivalry." _She paused. "Your parents, naturally, will be informed of this also. And let me see . . . Mr Black, Mr Snape . . . . seeing as neither of you saw fit to use your wands in this despicable exchange, I think it is only fitting you be deprived of them for a while." The fallen wands soared into her hand. "I shall restore them to you at the end of the school day. You may explain the situation to your teachers yourselves. Now get to class." With nothing further to add, she turned on her heel and marched off.

Sirius stared after her for a moment, his mouth moving soundlessly. At last he turned back to Narcissa and fixed her with his most beseeching, wounded-puppy look. Cissy crossed her arms in defiance and glared at the wall. She absolutely _refused _to forgive him.

"Fine," he snapped. "Forget it."

And he stormed off, leaving Narcissa alone with Snape. Blood began to trickle from her nose.

"Er . . . McGonagall's right," he said worriedly. "You probably should go to the hospital wing."

Narcissa shook her head fervently, ignoring the blood that speckled her collar as she did so.

"In a minute," she said hoarsely. "Here."

His face registered surprise as she pushed her wand into his hand.

"What-"

"Get him back for me," Narcissa implored her friend. "Please?"

Snape grinned, pocketing the wand. "With pleasure."

Narcissa smiled as she watched him leave, even though her lip cracked open as she did so, and more warm, salty blood filled her mouth. Suddenly queasy, she reached for her satchel.

It was gone.

She frowned. That wasn't possible. It had been right there! She'd seen it! Worried, she cast about for any evidence of its whereabouts. But the corridor was deserted. The only door that was even slightly ajar was the one that led to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and no-one ever went in _there. _She was staring at it, bewildered, when she felt something grab her arm. She yelped, alarmed, as the unseen force began to tow her forwards. Could ghosts attack living people? Panicking, Narcissa tripped as the door swung shut behind her. The flagstones rushed up to meet her, and then, abruptly, familiar arms caught her and set her back on her feet. She stared at her saviour, dumbstruck.

"_Bella?" _

Her sister nodded. There was no mistaking her. To Cissy, no-one in the world looked quite as beautiful as Bella. She was so pretty it made Narcissa's heart ache with envy. Her glossy black hair was straight today, but she looked paler than usual, and there were mauve shadows underneath her eyes, as if she had been sleeping badly. And around her neck . . . . Bellatrix tugged her collar up impatiently, hiding the ugly wreath of bruises from view. She smiled, a smile like a shark's.

"Hello Cissy."

Narcissa's world went black.

**A / N : Poor Cissy. That's what you call a bad day. I didn't know whether to smack Sirius or feel sorry for him here!**


	28. Trojan Horse

**A / N : For spurplebirdie this time, my latest lovely reviewer. By the way, the sentence that got mangled in the upload in the last chapter went "Particularly if the student in question is a Gryffindor. Your house, need I remind you, is renowned for its chivalry." Just in case that was bothering anyone. It bothered _me_ a lot. But I suppose sometimes even the brilliance that is Fanfiction net refuses to co-operate. **

**Trojan Horse **

Bella repressed a shudder as she dropped a lock of her sister's blonde hair into the potion, which dissolved it instantly, hissing faintly. She tried not to think about what the same potion would do to her insides. Then again, wasn't that the point? To melt her body like wax and reshape it in another form. In this case, Narcissa's. She sighed, raising the flask to toast her unconscious sister.

"Cheers, Cissy," she murmured. And then she downed the contents of the flask in one, before she had a chance to change her mind. Or throw up, as it transpired. The contents of her stomach seethed as she doubled over, gasping in shock. Taking the Polyjuice Potion was every bit as unpleasant as she'd feared. An enormous pressure pushed at every inch of her skin, _squeezing _and _crushing _and _oh god make it stop _it was unbearable. Like a thousand iron weights pressing against every pore, forcing her into a form that was smaller and smaller . . .

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and she sat up with a gasp. Had it worked? Half afraid of what she might she see, Bellatrix stood up slowly and stumbled to the mirror, feet slipping uncomfortably in shoes that were suddenly two sizes too big for her. At the sight of her reflection, she reeled backwards, staggered. It had worked. What Bella hadn't expected was that it would work quite so _well. _She stared at her reflection, unnerved. She could see no trace of herself in the stranger's eyes. This girl's hair was pale yellow, the colour of wheat, and her eyes were a clear, pale blue, like summer skies or water just before it turns to ice. And she was tiny, a head or two shorter than usual and light as a feather. Disorientated, Bella waved a hand at her reflection. Narcissa waved back.

Smothering a sudden fit of the giggles, Bella shook her head. She was wasting time. Turning away from her reflection, she wriggled out of her robes and reached for the smaller set she had stolen from the school supplies cupboard. She had pulled a blouse almost completely over her head when she suddenly stopped and ripped it off again. Frowning, she kicked off her shoes and turned back towards the mirror. She was Narcissa, alright, but . . . Bella swallowed, feeling faintly sick. Had Narcissa always been this _thin? _Swamped in her black school robes, her sister had always seemed skinny, but without them . . . . Bellatrix blinked. Hard. When she opened her eyes, it was to find that nothing had changed. The reflection staring back at her was still the same. Shivering – partly with shock, and partly with the sudden cold – she took another step forwards, gripping the rim of the sink like a life-raft, and examined her reflection. She couldn't remember the last time she had really _looked _at her sister. Cissy had always been a background presence, so familiar she hardly _needed _to look at her. But she was looking at her now, and Bella wasn't sure she liked what she saw. There wasn't a scrap of baby fat anywhere on her sister's frame, and her bones were clearly visible through the skin. Bella raised a finger to her side and began to count her ribs. _One, two, three . . . _She didn't get to number four. Her fingers had begun to shake so badly she had to ball them into tight, angry fists. Even then, the shaking didn't stop. What was her sister _doing _to herself? Didn't she eat at all? No. That was ridiculous. Of course Narcissa _ate. _Surely Bella would have noticed if her little sister simply stopped _eating._ Or would she? Bella stared at her reflection, unseeing, as she cast her mind back. She saw her sister cutting her food into tiny pieces, adding salt or sugar to it, pushing it around her plate . . . . but not actually eating it. At home, staring at Andromeda's empty place, sitting silent and unmoving as arguments raged around her . . . . .

A little scream of frustration escaped her as she kicked the discarded pile of robes on the floor. "For Merlin's sake, Cissy!" she cried, addressing her unconscious sibling. "What the hell is _wrong _with you?" Cissy, of course, did not answer. Bella groaned, burying her head in her hands. She honestly didn't know if she was more angry or annoyed. On the one hand, of course, she was worried about her sister. But . . . she had to admit that a part of her, however small, felt unjustly furious. After all, didn't she have enough on her plate? Didn't she have enough to think about, trying to cure Lucius and prove herself to the Dark Lord, on top of her impending N.E.W.T s? And, of course, there were her parents to take into consideration, both of whom seemed to think that finding a husband ought to be top of her list of priorities . . . . She sighed. It just wasn't fair. Narcissa, at least, had never been something she needed to worry about. And now that had changed, because her sister seemed to be trying to make herself genuinely ill, instead of simply faking it. Bella glared at her. _Why would someone __**do **__that? _But of course, the answer was already there, buried in the back of her mind. Narcissa wanted to disappear, to fade into the background. It was all she had ever wanted, since the _Andromeda _debacle. Even thinking her sister's name made Bella's lip curl. Another black mark against the blood traitor's name. She hadn't even needed another excuse to hate her, but Narcissa had provided her with one anyway.

Slowly, in better control of her emotions now, Bella began to dress. She smiled when she was finished, a grim smile. Andromeda had better have a fortified bolt-hole somewhere. Because one day, Bellatrix was going to come for her sister, and when that day came . . . . she was going to make her pay. _When __**I'm**__ finished with __**you**__, _she vowed, _you'll be sorry you were born. _

"I'll deal with _you _later," she growled at Narcissa, picking up her sister's satchel. Her hour was trickling away, bit by bit, and she didn't have the time to deal with her sister's stupidity. Not yet.

Bella cast a hasty Disillusionment Charm upon her sister's prone figure and backed out of the bathroom, locking it behind her as she went. Stowing her wand in her pocket, she hurried down the corridor, mentally concocting an excuse to visit the school greenhouses.

"Narcissa!"

She jumped. A boy was running towards her. Black-haired and faintly familiar looking, she nevertheless struggled to place him. As he drew closer, grinning all over his rather oily face, she realized that he was the boy Narcissa had been talking to, when Bella finally caught up with her. That was it. She had given him her wand. Still unable to match a name to the person, Bella kept her expression carefully impassive as he skidded to a halt in front of her.

"Hey!" He doubled over, breathing hard and clutching his sides. "Oh wow," he continued, as soon as he could force out more than a word at a time. "That was _brilliant. _I mean it, I'll be having dreams about that for the rest of my life." He looked up at her, grinning. "Seriously. I owe you, Narcissa."

Bella frowned. _Narcissa? _So they were on first name terms, were they? She consoled herself with the thought that, as a Slytherin, the very worst the boy could be was a half-blood. But still . . . she was fairly sure he wasn't a pureblood, and that was bad enough in her book. If only she could remember his name . . . .

Bellatrix was jolted out of her reverie by a harsh bark of laughter. She glanced up sharply. The boy was talking to her again. He seemed to have taken her silence as some sort of disapproval.

"Oh come on," he frowned at her, "you're not honestly feeling _sorry _for him, are you? You know as well as I do that Black deserves everything that comes his way. As for what for he did to you . ." - his face darkened - "He should never have touched you."

Bella stared. She _definitely _didn't care for the oddly protective note that had entered his tone. Just how close was this boy to Narcissa? To distract him while she mulled things over, she asked a question.

"So what did you do to him?"

That seemed an innocent request, the sort of thing Narcissa would say. She hoped. Yet again, Bella found herself feeling annoyed. Impersonating her sister, it seemed, was going to be harder than she'd thought.

The boy's grin widened in response to her question. He shrugged with faux-nonchalence, as if it really wasn't that big a deal. "Well, I didn't have time to do much," he conceded, "We were in Transfiguration. So I just fired a quick hex at him . . ."

At her probing look, he elaborated a little. "I vanished all his teeth," he said smugly.

Bella felt her mouth fall open. "In front of _McGonagall?_" she demanded, stunned.

He shrugged. "She flipped, naturally. 'Mr Snape, I am appalled and disgusted' . . . . and so on and so on. Told me to go see Dumbledore and gave me detention. But I don't care. It was worth it. Even though Potter's on the rampage now, because no-one gets away with spoiling the great good looks of the wonderful Sirius Black . . ."

"Nice one," Bella murmured. _Snape . . . definitely not a pureblood name. _That said, she was a little impressed, despite herself. Perhaps Cissy had better taste in friends than she'd given her credit for. Silently resolving to keep one eye on this one, she smiled at him. He reddened, and she found herself wondering if she had slipped up again. Narcissa's smile, after all, didn't usually have that effect on people.

"Oh," - he came to his senses with a jolt - "by the way, McGonagall has your wand-" He stopped abruptly, at the sound of running footsteps.

"What?"

Snape scowled. "That'll be Potter," he said sourly, "right on cue. Come on, quick."

Bella didn't have a chance to respond, as before she knew what was happening, he had grabbed her hand and pulled her into a nearby classroom. The footsteps followed them, and he had scarcely pulled her under the desk when the door flew open. But it wasn't Potter (whoever _he _was, Bella made a mental note to find that out later). Instead, a familiar pair of seventh years stumbled into the room, laughing and kissing breathlessly. Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett. Bella repressed a shudder. She didn't know what disgusted her more – Weasley and Prewett's public display of affection, or the fact that Narcissa's friend still hadn't let go of her hand. Busy staring at the two Gryffindors and wearing an expression that almost exactly mirrored her own, he didn't seem to have noticed.

While Weasley and Prewett attempted to suck each other's faces off, Bella cleared her throat, as quietly as possible. Her companion got the message immediately, dropping her hand with a start, as though it were a poisonous snake. Hiding a smirk, she swiftly crossed her arms to avoid a repeat offence. Then she scowled. This was ridiculous! She couldn't stay hiding in here for much longer, not when her hour was ticking away . . . .

Just as this unsettling thought crossed her mind, Prewett pulled away from her boyfriend, twice as breathless but still laughing.

"So . . . what could possibly be so urgent that it requires us to skip class and hide out in an empty classroom?" she asked.

Weasley smiled sappily at her. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. Snape pretended to gag. Weasley seized his girlfriend's hand and took a step towards her, breathing deeply as though about to jump off a diving board. Raising her fingers to his lips, he kissed them lightly and then fell to his knees.

"Molly Prewett," he said nervously, "would you do me the honour – the very, very great honour, I mean – of . . of becoming my wife?"

If Bella hadn't been on the ground already, she might have been in serious danger of falling over in shock. As it was, her mouth fell open, while Snape's eyes looked as if they were about to drop out of his head. Molly, for her part, looked as though her knees might give way. Eventually, she found her voice.

"Arthur, get up," she sighed. Looking faintly offended and extremely hurt, he scrambled to his feet.

"What's wrong?" he asked anxiously, a frown line wrinkling his forehead. "Don't you . . . don't you want to marry me?"

Molly sighed, an exasperated but indulgent sound. She squeezed his hand, smiling a little. "Don't be so ridiculous. Of _course _I want to marry you. I'd be honoured to be your wife. I dream about it, sometimes . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head. "What I don't understand is why you want to get married now? I mean, what's the rush? We could wait a few years. My feelings won't change. And it's not like you to be so . . ."

"Impulsive?" Arthur supplied the word with a tender smile. Then he frowned. "You're right," he sighed. "I suppose it must seem a little odd." He hesitated. "There's something I should tell you . ."

"What? What's wrong?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at Molly's panicked tone. After all, she seriously doubted _Arthur Weasley, _of all people, would be involved in anything dangerous, or even remotely exciting.

Weasley glanced around him, although Bella failed to see the point of _that. _She doubted he would have proposed in the first place if he didn't already think the room was empty. She glanced idly at Snape, checking he was still hidden. He was, and he was staring at her. It took her a moment to realize why. Her foot was tapping against the floor, betraying her impatience. Mortified, she forced herself to be still. Surely this couldn't take much longer? How much longer, after all, could it _possibly _take for Prewett and Weasley to make up in some ridiculous, overly-sentimental fashion? But then Weasley spoke, and Bella froze, because suddenly, she was very interested indeed in the Muggle-loving blood-traitor's opinions.

He lowered his voice, pulling his girlfriend closer to him. "You know, of course," he said quietly, "about all these attacks? These," - he lowered his voice even more - "_Death Eaters?"_

Frowning, clearly not quite comprehending, Molly nodded. "They keep attacking Muggles, don't they? It's awful, I know. But . . . what's that got to do with us?"

"Everything! It's got _everything _to do with us!" Weasley had turned a vivid, flaming pink. Bellatrix didn't think she'd ever seen him this worked up. "We're the only ones who can stop them, Molls, we're the only ones who can stand up and fight! The Muggles can't defend themselves, how can they? They don't understand what's happening! But we do . . . and it's not just Muggle killings. It's pureblood supremacy and hatred for "half-breeds" . . . all that outmoded Slytherin snobbery." He paused, inhaling deeply. "Molly," he whispered, "it's got to stop. And I've got to do my part, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I've spoken to your brothers, and they agree."

Molly pulled her hand away and folded her arms, suddenly looking rather imposing. "If I find," she said heatedly, "that Gideon and Fabian have been trying to talk you into something dangerous-"

Arthur interrupted her, squeezing her shoulders and looking more serious than ever. "Molly, it's not like that," he insisted. "They don't have to 'talk me into' anything. There's a war coming, whether we like it or not, and we can't just sit back and let it happen to someone else. That's the easy option, not the right one. And it's not just them . . ." He inhaled deeply. "It's Dumbledore too. We're not children anymore Molly. We'll be out of here in a few weeks. And Dumbledore's right. We have to pick a side, the right side, to fight on. And we both know which side _that _is. The thing is," - he smiled sadly - "I expect it's going to be dangerous. And if anything were to ever happen to me . . . well, there are things I've always wanted to do, and marrying the girl I love is one of them. So in a situation like this, I just don't see the point in waiting."

"You really think there's going to be a war?"

"It's already beginning."

Molly was silent for a long minute. Then she pulled herself together. "I won't elope with you, Arthur. It's not that I don't want to marry you," she insisted, "It's just that . . . marrying you now would be tantamount to admitting we might not have much time left. And I _refuse _to think like that. We will get married, but we'll have _years _before we even need to think about it."

Arthur sighed. "You're sure?" He sounded disappointed.

Molly nodded firmly. "Positive."

"Maybe you'll change your mind."

"Maybe I will. But for now . . . it's a lovely day. And I don't really see the point in returning to Muggle Studies, not when we've missed so much of the class already . . ."

Arthur's face lit up. "You read my mind," he said with a grin. Molly squealed as he swept her off her feet and spun her round, kissing her again. Laughing, they left the room. Bella stared after them. Her face was frozen in an attitude of disgust, but her mind was working furiously.


	29. Extreme Ways

**Extreme Ways **

So, there was going to be a war, was there? And there was only one right side? And _Arthur Weasley, _some jumped-up disgrace of a wizard who didn't even _deserve _the name of pureblood, thought he knew exactly what that side was. It made Bella so angry she could scream. _Blood traitors, _she thought savagely, _they're all the same, aren't they? So convinced they alone know what's right, so hypocritical and selfish and . . . _She trailed off, breathing hard. _Calm down, _a little voice murmured in her mind as she clenched her fists. _They'll all get what's coming to them, one day. _Bella swallowed. The trouble was, she was starting to feel that 'one day' wasn't soon enough.

"Er . . . Narcissa? Are you okay?"

Snape was frowning at her, apparently quite alarmed. With an immense effort, Bella pulled herself together.

"Oh . . . no. I, um . . I feel sick." Well that last bit was true enough. She _did _feel sick, just not in the way he thought. More _sickened _than actually sick.

This didn't quite seem to satisfy Snape. "You look angry," he said dubiously.

Annoyed, Bella got to her feet. "Well, I _am _angry," she admitted. "I hate them."

"Hate who?"

Snape seemed to be a little slow on the uptake. She realized, too late, that he probably hadn't had much experience with Weasley and Prewett. So her hatred of them must seem a little odd.

"Blood traitors," she snapped. "I hate blood traitors."

She turned on her heel and marched to the door, irritated when he only followed her, apparently undeterred by her sudden coldness.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked doubtfully. "Maybe you should go to the hospital wing."

Bella skidded to a halt and spun round to face him. "Why would you say _that?" _she demanded, glaring at him. She really didn't like this halfblood's tone. He flinched.

"Nothing," he muttered. "I just don't think you're acting like yourself, that's all."

Bella smothered a scream. _Idiot! Of course I'm not acting like myself! I'm __**not **__myself! _But of course, she couldn't say any of this aloud. So she swallowed her words and forced her face into a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"I'm just not feeling well," she explained. "I think you might be right. Maybe I _should _go to the hospital wing."

"Good idea," Snape said fervently. He was still looking at her oddly. "I'll walk you there."

Bella cursed inwardly. What was wrong with this boy? Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"Er . . . no, it's alright," she insisted. "I actually have to do something else first."

Snape frowned at her. "What?" he asked.

"I, er, left my Charms homework behind in Herbology," she invented quickly, suppressing the urge to strangle him. "I should go and get it."

"Okay, well, I'll go with you." He seemed determined not to leave her alone.

"It's fine. _Really," _Bella said coldly. "You should get to class."

Snape shrugged. "I don't mind," he insisted. "I was on my way to see Dumbledore anyway, remember? The longer I delay that, the better, in my opinion."

Bella inhaled deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets, so he couldn't see her clenched fists. "I'm _fine," _she repeated forcefully. "I don't need you to come with me. I can go on my own."

Ugh. How did Cissy _do _this all the time? It was a wonder she didn't go mad, constantly holding her tongue, never saying what she really wanted to . . . Bella shuddered. She could still feel all the harsh words she had swallowed since this charade had begun, not even an hour ago. They were festering, unspoken, in her stomach, twisting her insides like some bitter, slow-acting poison.

Snape still looked distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of leaving her on her own. "I still don't see," he said carefully, "why I shouldn't go with you. I _want _to. I'm sorry, but . . . you're acting strangely. I think there might be something wrong with you."

Bella glared at him, infuriated, but he only stared back at her, a hint of a challenge in his stance. Apparently she would have to change tactics. She sighed, trying to soften her expression.

"Like I said, I'm fine. I just need some time on my own." He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him before he had the chance to say anything more. "Just a few minutes. It's, er . . . girl stuff. And I promise I'll go straight to the hospital wing afterwards. How's that?"

_Yuck. _It was faintly disgusting, being this _nice_ and _reasonable . . . _Ugh. Bella was actually starting to feel queasy.

Snape nodded slowly. "If you're sure . . ." he said uncertainly.

Bella smiled at him, feeling as if she had just swallowed a spoonful of bitter medicine. "Positive," she replied, privately feeling that she could really sink no lower than echoing the words of Molly Prewett. "I'm positive."

"Alright. Well . . . I'll see you later then."

"Yes. Later. Sure." All this smiling was starting to make her jaw ache. And if she didn't stop biting her tongue soon, it was going to start bleeding. At long last, however, it paid off. Snape turned on his heel and walked away. Bella watched him go, her foot tapping impatiently against the floor. As soon as he rounded the corner, she began to run.

She hurtled through corridors, hardly paying any attention to where she was going and ignoring the stitch that ripped at her ribs as she left the castle and sprinted towards Greenhouse Three. She had no idea how much time she had left.

Bella almost tripped over a stray watering-can as she burst into the greenhouse. Cursing loudly, she grabbed hold of a nearby plant and struggled to steady herself. A moment later, she realized this might not have been the best idea, as the plant hissed oddly in response. The vine she had been holding onto came off in her hand and another lashed out and struck her across the face. Blood trickled down her cheek and Bella snarled. Picking up a trowel, she hurled it at her assailant, smiling in satisfaction as the metal implement embedded itself in the tangled, viny heart of the plant, which began to bleed sap. Brushing down the front of her robes and wiping the blood from her cheek, she hitched Narcissa's satchel higher onto her shoulder and hurried through the empty greenhouse, heading for the workbenches at the very back.

At last, she found them. A row of leafy, purplish plants, in squat little pots. Swallowing, Bella picked up a length of garden twine and wound it round her hand. She was going to have to be very, _very _quick about this. Selecting a pot at random, she pulled it towards her. It wobbled as the mandrake inside twisted fretfully, and her hands began to shake. _Calm down, _she told herself, _it's not going to kill you, not if you're quick enough. And if you're not . . . . well, then you've only got yourself to blame, haven't you? _With this not-so-reassuring thought in mind, Bella took a deep breath and plunged her hands into the earth.

"Ow!"

She yelped as hard little teeth sank into her hand and the Mandrake's tiny fists beat against her fingers, like some attacking, mutant baby. But its voice remained muffled by the earth around it, for the time being. Digging her heels into the ground, she fought to keep the pot from tumbling to the ground as the thing thrashed wildly against her restraining grip, fighting the loop of twine that was closing around its throat, tighter and tighter, suffocating it, garrotting it . . . . One flailing fist broke the surface and sent earth spilling across the table. A muffled, piping sort of screech sounded briefly and Bella felt momentarily dizzy and light-headed. The room lurched alarmingly and she almost fell over, suddenly feeling faint. But with one final, desperate tug, she yanked the twine tight and felt the Mandrake shudder and fall still. Dead.

Bella swallowed and carefully lifted its limp form from the pot, examining it. How odd. When ripe, apparently, Mandrakes resembled fat, wrinkled old men with squashed, ugly faces and large, protuding stomachs. _Hmm. Quite like Slughorn. _Pushing this rather flippant thought from her mind, Bella quickly shoved the dead Mandrake into her satchel and turned to leave. As she did so, she caught a brief glimpse of her reflection. Her hand flew to her throat. Ugly purple bruises were starting to bloom on Narcissa's pale white neck, their colour seeping to the surface like oil on water. As she examined her reflection more closely, horrified, she saw that the roots of her hair were slowly darkening too, and her eyes were turning back to grey. Her stomach twisted, painfully, and she didn't stop to see any more. Instead, she charged out of the greenhouse and flat-out raced towards the castle, ignoring the stares of passing students and the stitch in her side. Her clothes were growing tighter and tighter and her shoes were starting to pinch. By the time she threw herself through the door to Mrytle's bathroom and stumbled over to her sister, the hair that fell in front of her eyes was black, not blond. She cried out in pain, ripping the borrowed robes off as her skin began to bubble and melt. A moment later, it was over, and she lay panting on the floor. For a minute or so, she didn't move. She simply lay where she was, fighting to get her breath back and silently rejoicing at being back in her own body. But at last she felt compelled to climb to her feet and dress, and to consider the pressing question of what to do about Narcissa.

Of course, she could simply leave her in a corridor somewhere, unconscious. But that wouldn't achieve anything. No. The best thing for Narcissa, right now, was surely a small spell in the hospital wing. Perhaps an overnight stay, the sort of thing that might give Madam Pomfrey a reason to keep her in overnight, for _observation. _Mulling things over, Bella crossed to her sister and picked her up, mildly repulsed by how easy it was to do so. She waited patiently as the bell for lunch sounded and the noisy tide of students surged out of their classooms and down to the Great Hall. Finally, when all was quiet again, she let herself out of the bathroom and half-dragged, half-carried Narcissa down the stairs, setting her down lightly on the second-last step. "I'm sorry, Cissy," she murmured softly, "But it's for your own good. . . ." She pulled out her wand and aimed it very precisely at her sister's leg.

"_Diffindo!" _

There was a nasty, ear-splitting crack.


	30. Heaven's Gates Won't Open Up For Me

**Heaven's Gates Won't Open Up For Me**

_Heaven's gates won't open up for me, _

_With these broken wings I'm falling, _

_And all I see is you . . . _

_Nickelback, **Savin' Me.**_

"Are you sure you're the right person to do that? Not," Rosier amended hurriedly, "that I'm complaining. But still . . ."

He paused, staring doubtfully at his cousin, who was feeding a length of pipe down Lucius Malfoy's throat. Bella rolled her eyes.

"I have no idea what you mean," she announced, cursing under her breath as the tube became stuck for the third time in as many minutes. She pushed it roughly to dislodge it, and Rosier winced in a fashion that might almost have been called sympathetic. It was rapidly becoming plain that Bella was not ever going to be suited to a career in the healing profession.

Rosier grimaced. "I still don't see," he said languidly, "why you don't just tip the potion down his throat and hope for the best."

Bellatrix frowned. She was well aware that in this scenario, Rosier was probably hoping for the worst. She suspected he still hadn't forgiven Lucius for what she fondly referred to as "the intestines incident".

"Because," she said carefully, "he's in a Petrified state. If I tip a load of liquid down his throat, he's liable to choke. But if I use the tube, it'll go straight to his stomach like it's supposed to, not to his lungs."

"Oh. I see." Rosier didn't look too pleased with this prognosis.

Bella smirked. "Aha!" she cried at last. "Got it!"

Getting to her feet, she wiped her hands on her robes and reached for the potion. She had just picked it up when a drawling voice caught her attention.

"So it worked, then? You pulled it off?"

Bella looked up slowly. Antonin Dolohov stood in the doorway, not bleeding as he had been the last time she saw him, but wearing the same faintly mocking smile. She carefully put the flask back on the floor.

"Yes," she said slowly. "It worked." She glanced at Rosier, who wearing a tiresomely familiar expression of jealous suspicion. "You can go now," she told him. Scowling, but apparently too proud to admit it bothered him, her cousin left the room. His lips were clamped tightly shut but the look of resentful annoyance on his face spoke volumes. Bella waved at him. As soon as he was gone, she turned her attention to Dolohov.

"I can pay you," she told him, watching carefully to gauge his reaction. His face, however, remained infuriatingly impassive.

"Can you now?" he asked, a wry smile twisting his lips. "And what will you be paying me in?"

"Information," Bella said flatly. She was fighting to stay calm, although part of her rebelled against this. How could she be calm? She was selling two people to the Dark Lord, after all. If they died, she was at least partly responsible. But oddly enough, she couldn't feel guilty about it. Perhaps it was because it didn't seem entirely real, what she was doing, or perhaps it was because she felt a strange, perverse sort of excitement at the knowledge that she was doing something at last, fighting back, in her own way. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she continued, before she had the chance to change her mind.

"That's right," she continued. "I can give you information, and trust me, this is information you'll want to hear."

Dolohov did not encourage her to elaborate, but he didn't tell her to stop either, so Bella took his silence for an assent.

"Blood traitors," she said evenly. "I can give you the names of blood traitors."

His eyes narrowed, and she felt a flicker of satisfaction. He was intruiged. Good.

She pushed ahead, feeling oddly reckless. "Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett. They're both seventeen, still in Hogwarts, though not for much longer. If you ask me though, the ones you should really look out for are Prewett's brothers, Gideon and Fabian." She pronounced their names carefully, wanting to make sure he understood. "From the sound of it, they – and Dumbledore of course – are the ones putting ideas in Weasley's head. And where Weasley goes, his girlfriend follows."

There was a long silence. "You're sure about this?" Dolohov asked at last.

Bella scowled. "Of course I'm sure," she said impatiently. "I heard them talking about it, it came straight from the horse's mouth."

Dolohov mulled things over. "I don't know," he said at last. "I'm still not sure . . ."

"What do you mean, you're still not sure?" Bella snapped. "This is the best you're going to get and it's perfectly good information! Don't you think I wouldn't have preferred to tell our master this myself? Don't you think it isn't killing me that I can't?"

She stopped, breathing hard. _How dare he, _she thought furiously. _How __**dare**__ he? _And then she froze, because soft, hauntingly familiar laughter had started up behind her. She spun round.

Their master stood facing them, leaning lightly against the doorframe and wearing an expression of amused surprise. How genuine that surprise was, she couldn't tell.

"Well, well. How unusual."

Bella swallowed. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. How long had he been standing there? She had no idea. The ability to appear out of thin air was apparently something her master had down to a fine art. For one brief, panicked moment she wondered if she ought to bow. Almost immediately, she felt stupid. Her master caught her eye and smiled cruelly, as if he had just read her clumsy thoughts. She flushed.

"Dolohov." There was cold amusement in their master's tone. "Interfering, again? How strange. I thought I had cured you of that particular habit. And it's always the women, isn't it?" He made a soft, mocking sound of annoyance, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

Dolohov grimaced. "Master, I . . ."

The Dark Lord held up a hand and silenced him instantly. "I don't care to hear more of your explanations. No. Now, let me think. Apparently, physical punishment isn't enough to deter you. Perhaps I shall have to punish someone else in your stead . . ."

Dolohov paled. "No . . . master, please . . ."

Their master regarded him for a long moment, and then he laughed. "Hmm. No. That won't be neccessary. Today," - he smiled, quite possibly the least reassuring gesture Bella had ever seen - "Lord Voldemort is feeling merciful." The sound of his name sent a strange, delicious sort of shiver down her spine. "I won't punish you, Dolohov. But I think it is only fair that I show my dissatisfaction in some small way. Therefore, you and Rosier will exchange tasks. His will become yours, and yours will become his."

"But. . ." Dolohov looked wretched. "Master I can't even _remember _what Rosier's task was," he said unhappily.

Her master's smile widened maliciously. "I believed it involved observation."

"Spying," Dolohov stated unhappily. Clearly, his task had been much more interesting.

"That's right. Now, you may leave. I wish to speak to Bellatrix."

"I . ." Dolohov opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. "Of course, master." He bowed deeply and hurried from the room, looking curiously relieved. Bella wondered, briefly, what hold her master had over Dolohov. She was jolted back to reality by the sound of her master's voice. He was talking to her, she realized.

"Well, Bella?"

He stared at her, smiling expectantly, as though waiting for her to ask a question. Bella opened her mouth and then shut it again, wrong-footed by this odd approach. She had been expecting him to ask _her _a question, if anything.

"I . ." The silence dragged on another long moment, as she struggled to think of what to say. At last, she settled on the most obvious question, the one that had been burning in her mind all day. "Did I – did I do it, my lord? Did I prove myself?"

He watched her in silence, studying her for such a long time that she began to worry. Had she done something wrong? Maybe she shouldn't have asked, maybe he had been expecting her to say something else, or she had failed some other test she hadn't been clever enough to pick up on. Or was he angry about her deal with Dolohov? At last, however, he spoke.

"Yes," he said slowly. "You have proven yourself, I think. As for my anger-" Bella nearly fell over in shock "-I am not angry, precisely. More curious."

Bella blinked. "C – curious, my lord?" she asked, shelving (for the moment) the question of how he could read her mind.

Her master nodded. "Yes, Bella, curious. Most of my followers, I suspect, would not hesitate to break a promise if it served their own purposes. Why you would honour your word is something that intruiges me."

"Oh." Bella swallowed. "Well . . . that's just it, my lord. I gave my word."

Her master's smirk widened. "How noble," he said lightly. "Perhaps you were Sorted a little too soon."

Bella flushed. "That's not what I meant," she protested. "It's just that . . . I'm a Black. One of the oldest, if not _the _oldest, pureblood families in the country." She unconsciously stood up a little straighter. She felt more confident about what she was saying now, because she knew she was in the right. "My family's honour -" she felt a brief flare of anger "- means a lot to me."

"Ah . . . I see."

The 's' in the word 'see' sounded strangely sibiliant. He stared at her, head tilted to one side, for a long moment. Bella reddened, embarrassed by his intense scrutiny of her, but she held his gaze. He laughed.

"You truly despise her, don't you?" he said softly.

"I . ." Bella swallowed. "I don't know who you mean," she murmured, staring at her shoes.

"Oh, I think you do, Bella."

She jumped. How had he done that? She hadn't even heard him move, but suddenly he was less than a foot away from her. A few more steps, and he would be close enough to . . . Bella pushed the thought roughly out of her mind, appalled at herself. "I despise a lot of people, my lord," she said weakly.

He uttered another soft laugh, and drew closer to her. _One step, two . . . _"But none quite like her, hmm? Andromeda . . . ."

Bella started to shake. She had no idea why, and she struggled to master herself.

Her master took another step closer to her. "You hate her," he said, his voice a soft, hissing whisper. "You hate her, don't you Bella . . . .?"

Bella swallowed. Her heart was hammering, and she couldn't think. He was staring at her, his eyes locked on hers, and she couldn't look away. She nodded.

"Yes," she mumbled. "I hate her . . ."

Her master treated her to a coldly triumphant smile, and closed the distance, the single step, between them.

"Do you want to hurt her, Bella?" he murmured. "Do you want to make her _suffer?" _

Bella opened her mouth, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. He was so close to her now, they were almost touching. She couldn't remember how to breathe . . .

"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.

He smiled. Her heart fluttered.

"Could you kill her, Bella?"

Every time he said her name, it sent a shiver down her spine. And every time he spoke, she felt a little more light-headed, a little less _there . . ._ She shivered.

"Well, Bella? Could you?"

He was watching her, expectant and amused. She forced herself to think about the question. For the first time, Bella wished she could lie. She knew what he wanted to hear. That she would murder Andromeda without a second thought, that it wouldn't bother her. Except that it _would. _She would be lying if she said otherwise. She had never killed anyone before. It wasn't that she was particularly averse to the idea. In fact, she wouldn't pretend to be saddened by the prospect of some Mudblood scum meeting their death, or a batch of filthy Muggles, who hardly counted as people anyway, in her book. But Andromeda . . . a pureblood. Someone she had grown up with, a _Black. _Her own she kill her? She opened her mouth, and then shut it again, caught by her own promise never to lie to her master and at a loss for words.

But he seemed to understand anyway.

"Oh Bella," he said with a soft laugh, "such weakness! I must confess," - he put out a hand and Bella was sure her heart stopped as he touched her hair. She thought she might fall over as she felt him twine one dark, silky curl around his finger. Then, abruptly, he dropped it. "I'm disappointed."

He took a step back while she was still dizzy and confused and laughed again, not so softly this time.

"Revive Lucius," he ordered. "With regard to you . . . it would seem I have work to do."

Still laughing, her master disapparated.

*******************************

**A / N : Annddd . . . . fade to black! If you got this far, a HUGE thank you. You have officially reached the end of the first installment of Protege Moi! It seemed a nice point to break it off at. Thirty chapters. Don't worry though, this isn't the end! I just thought the fic was getting very long, and saw the need to break it off somewhere. I should start posting the sequel, Long Road To Ruin, in a week or so. It'll be a straight continuation of the action, most likely from the point Narcissa wakes up in the hospital wing. Keep an eye out for it!**

**This was my very first fanfic, and it's been a real learning curve. I've met some wonderful people on this site, and I can tell you completely honestly that this entire fic would have died around chapter seven if wasn't for all the people who took the time to review and keep my confidence up. So this is dedicated to everyone who reviewed, because it really does mean more than I can say. You kept me going, made me smile, and reassured me that what I was writing wasn't a complete load of rubbish. Thank you all! Also, if anyone new is reading this, I never get tired of reviews, so please leave one and let me know what you think, if you made it this far!**

**The next "chapter" by the way, is just the playlist – the list of all the songs I used as my chapter titles. Finally, I can take them off my profile! **


	31. Chapter Titles Playlist

**Well here it is, as promised - the playlist! Chapter titles are from songs in my music library and reflect my aforementioned random taste in music. Tupac and The Killers for example. My taste in music is VERY wide-ranging. But hey, at least I'm not a music snob! Anyway - I pick song titles because they reflect the themes in the chapter, but the lyrics of the song itself could totally contradict that. Look up the tracks on YouTube if you aren't familiar with them, I love to spread good music lol. So far we have :**

Happy Home – Tupac

Thank You For The Venom – My Chemical Romance

Losing Touch - The Killers

Teenage Angst - Placebo

Going Under – Evanescence

Sweet Talk - The Killers

Ways and Means – Snow Patrol

One Way Or Another - Blondie

Show You How - The Killers

Start Something - Lostprophets

All I Ever Wanted - Basshunter

Ready Or Not - The Fugees

Trouble - Coldplay

One Step Closer - Linkin Park

Talk - Coldplay

Lonely - Akon

Monster - The Automatic

What I Go To School For - Busted

From The Inside - Linkin Park

Must Get Out - Maroon Five

Handle This - Sum 41

Fix You – Coldplay

Everything's Not Lost – Coldplay

Friends O' Mine - Bowling For Soup

Warning Sign - Coldplay

Twisted Logic – Coldplay

Can't Get Along ( Without You ) - Hard-Fi

Trojan Horse - Bloc Party

Extreme Ways – Moby

Heaven's Gate's Won't Open Up For Me – I deviated from routine with this one, it's actually a lyric. Nickelback - Savin' Me.

The title (of this installment and the whole series) is Protege Moi, by Placebo. Or Protect Me (From What I Want ) in English. Points to anyone who can spot where I'm referencing the theme throughout the fic, lol.


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